Dark Phoenix
by ArwenLalaith
Summary: It's been eleven years since Emily Prentiss last saw her husband...
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Okay, so it's important to remember that I've effectively ignored most - if not all - of the X-Men timeline. And everyone's canon ages are completely moot. Also, I think it's important to note that I've chosen to use X-Men: First Class as my inspiration, so when you picture the characters, picture those actors haha.**

* * *

"I want out," was the first thing Emily said when Clyde answered the phone, not waiting for him to speak. She wasn't normally so abrupt, but she knew that if she gave him the chance he'd attempt to talk her out of this, so she didn't give him the opportunity.

"Emily? What the bloody hell are you on about?" he grumbled sleepily. She hadn't bothered to wait until morning to call and in hindsight, he probably would've been in a better mood if she had, but it was too late for that now.

"You promised me that when I was ready to get out, you'd make that happen," she continued as if she hadn't heard his griping. "I'm ready to go home."

He groaned wearily, realizing she wasn't about to let this go and he wasn't going to get back to sleep any time soon. Truthfully, he'd been expecting this day and yet part of him had hoped it wouldn't come. "Em..." he started, voice taking on a warning tone. "The work you're doing..."

She didn't let him finish, didn't want to hear his lecture, already knew exactly what he'd say. "I've been doing this job for five years, I worked for you for six before that... I'm tired. I want to go home," she repeated. "I want to see _him_."

"Emily, he's dangerous. You should know that better than anyone."

"He doesn't want to fight anyone," she insisted, angry on _his_ behalf. "He only wants to protect them. You _know_ that."

"Just because he hasn't hurt you yet, doesn't mean he won't..." Clyde warned, bold because he was safe from her wrath at the other end of the phone line.

"If you're not going to help me, I'll do it myself," she snapped. "Do what you promised me or stay out of my way..." Then, she hung up the phone before he could reply.

* * *

It figured that Clyde was too much of a coward to come to her himself, sending Sean to do his dirty work... She'd always liked Sean better anyway, so she didn't exactly mind his presence – it meant she didn't have to get in a bitching match with Clyde.

She hadn't seen Sean in years – she couldn't help but think he looked weary, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. (She would later wonder if that was because of her...)

"We're breaking Ian Doyle out of prison," Sean said, point blank as she settled across from him looking perhaps a little confused at his sudden reappearance in her life.

She stared at him in open-mouthed confusion for several long moments, unable to form a coherent thought in the face of what had to be the worst idea she'd ever heard. "Wh-why?" she stammered, glad she didn't have a drink in her hand or she surely would have dropped and shattered it.

"He's going to help get you out," Sean explained without explaining anything at all, lest someone overhear.

"Help me?" she repeated incredulously. "He wants me dead!"

"Exactly."

Emily stared at him like he'd lost his mind, waiting for some kind of explanation that was the least bit reasonable.

"We're going to fake your death," Sean whispered furtively, "We're getting you out."


	2. Chapter 2

Inside the safe, there was another envelope, smaller, more sacred. She kept it locked away, not because its contents were dangerous or classified, but because they were too painful. Her hands trembled as she reached in the safe, pulling out the envelope containing all the Doyle dossiers, fingers ghosting the second envelope and, for a moment, she hesitated.

Her teeth scraped her bottom lip, tears pricking at her eyes. "Soon, mein herz..." she whispered.

* * *

_May 27th_

_The first time she'd met him, she was newly eighteen and (to be entirely honest with herself) she'd had a crush on him for years. She'd given up hope that she'd ever actually come face-to-face with him, given her mother's staunch disapproval of him and his ideologies, but that didn't stop her from idolizing him (in fact, her mother's opposition was part of the attraction...)._

_She leaned against the wall of the ballroom, arms crossed over her chest, scowl firmly in place. She hadn't wanted to come tonight, had argued with her mother for a week straight and ultimately lost. That didn't mean she had to enjoy herself, though, and it certainly didn't mean she had to socialize._

"_Enjoying yourself?" a voice asked from beside her. It was clear from the smirk in his tone that he already knew the answer._

_She gave a snort of amusement without looking up, too busy staring daggers at her mother. "I might be," she muttered, "If I were old enough to drink..."_

_Her companion laughed. "Alcohol does seem to be a requirement to not wanting to blow your brains out at these parties... Though I'm not sure Charles would forgive me for getting shit-faced and ruining his good image."_

_Emily looked up sharply, suddenly realizing to whom she was speaking, felt her heart leap into her throat. She tried not to let it show on her face just how star-struck she was. "I did that once," she said, hoping her voice didn't tremble. "Mother has never forgiven me and now all the waiters know not to serve me."_

"_Ah," he made a sound of recognition, "So, you're the Ambassador's daughter."_

"_Unfortunately." She offered him her best approximation of a smile. "Emily," she introduced herself._

"_Erik," he replied, as if anyone in the world didn't already know his name. He reached into his suit coat and pulled a flask from an inner pocket, offered it to her. "Don't tell Charles," he whispered conspiratorially._

_She gratefully accepted the drink, tipping back a healthy swallow, feeling the burn of whiskey all the way down her throat. She offered him a secretive smile. "Only so long as you don't tell my mother."_

_He laughed, accepted the flask back, took a sip. "Would you care to dance?" he offered, extending a hand towards her._

_For a moment, Emily stared at his proffered hand, debating, before throwing caution to the wind and accepting the offer._

_Emily's back met the wall with force and she gasped sharply into the kiss, but made no move to stop. Her head swam pleasantly from the whiskey, but she knew _exactly _what she was doing – she'd been fantasizing about this for a very long time._

_Fingers wrapped tightly around her wrists, he pinned both her hands against the wall on either side of her head, perhaps a little roughly, but she certainly wasn't about to complain. She pressed her hips firmly against his, putting pressure on his hardening length, making him groan, the sound travelling straight to her core. He pulled away from her lips to nip scoldingly at her neck, sinking his teeth into her tender flesh, and she tilted her head back to give him better access, her chest heaving with arousal at the rough treatment._

_He chuckled low in his throat at her eagerness. "It would seem you're not the good little Ambassador's daughter your mother would like you to be..."_

_She smirked. "You have no idea..." As if to prove her point, she wrested one wrist away from his grasp and slipped her hand past the waistband of his pants and wrapped her fingers around his cock._

_He groaned as she slid her hand along his length, getting him fully erect, and she grinned wickedly at how easily she could bring someone so powerful to his knees._

_As if reading her thoughts, he tangled one hand in her loosely curled locks, and tugged sharply so she was forced to her knees before him. She flicked her tongue out over her lips as she reached to undo his pants, pulling his cock free. She didn't need to be told twice what he wanted and she was all too happy to oblige._

"_Good girl," he murmured, though there was nothing _good _about what they were doing._

_She smirked up at him as she wrapped her lips around the head of his cock, eager to please him (and, if it would horrify her mother, all the better). She felt his fingers tighten in her hair as his hips thrust forward, plunging his length into her mouth and she gave a pleased little hum as his length hit the back of her throat, the vibrations of the sound travelling straight through him, drawing a shuddering breath from his throat._

_She slowly dragged her mouth back up his length, scraping her teeth as she went, just the faintest bit. When she pulled back, letting him slip from her mouth with a wet pop, she glanced up at him through her lashes as she flicked her tongue across the head and she could tell that he was struggling to hold back from pushing her head forward and thrusting into her mouth, fucking her with abandon. She had absolutely no problem with that..._

_She moaned softly as he tugged her hair, urging her back onto his cock, conscious of her volume given their all too close proximity to the party. She wasn't all that experienced, but he was easily the biggest she'd ever taken and when he thrust in as far as he could go, she felt the momentary panic of not being able to breathe, and the rush of adrenalin through her veins caused her to moan again._

"_God, Emily," he said through gritted teeth as she bobbed her head faster, pushing him deeper into her mouth with each thrust of his hips. "Like that. Fuck."_

_A victorious little thrill coursed through her at her ability to so thoroughly reduce him to _this_. It didn't take long before he lost the ability to form words altogether, thrusting faster into her mouth, his grip on her hair tightening, keeping her in place as he fucked her._

_With a primal cry, he buried himself in her mouth one final time before coming and he held her in place so she'd take every last drop._

_When she released him, panting heavily, she licked the last of his cum off her lips with an all too mischievous smile. She was about to return to the party before her mother noticed her absence and became irate when his fingers closed about her wrist, stopping her._

_She turned back, brow raised in question, but before she could speak, he pulled her to him, kissing her soundly._


	3. Chapter 3

"Well, you really managed to fuck things up, now didn't you?" Clyde said by way of greeting, leaning against the door frame to her private ICU room.

Emily heaved a sigh; she'd been hoping to get out of this without a lecture, but it appeared that wasn't about to happen. "It wasn't _my_ idea to send a psychotic serial killer after me," she retorted. "How exactly was that supposed to _help_?"

"You didn't have to go off half-cocked and hunt him down on your own," Clyde snapped. He paced back and forth and she knew he had to work out all the fear that had manifested itself as anger...that didn't stop her from being annoyed, though.

She rolled her eyes, shook her head. "No, right, this is _my _fault... I should have thought of that _before _I got stabbed half to death."

"You wouldn't have gotten stabbed if you'd let us _help _you..." he replied. And he _did _have a point (not that she was about to admit it).

"Can you just skip the lecture? I'm in the ICU, I think I learned my lesson."

He sighed rather dramatically, but said nothing further on the subject. He settled into the chair beside her bed, looking weary, like he'd aged entire lifetimes in the last several days.

She waited eagerly for him to say something more, words she'd waited eleven years to hear, but he didn't speak. "Well?" she prompted. She'd gone through Hell and was waiting to hear that it had all been worth it.

Clyde pinched the bridge of his nose as if anticipated an oncoming headache. "As soon as you're well enough, you'll travel to Genosha," he said simply, looking like he'd just bitten into a lemon.

She bit down on her bottom lip to keep her smile hidden lest she irritate him further. "Does he know I'm coming?" she asked, unable to help herself.

He shook his head. "He refuses all communications with Interpol." They both knew that he'd never quite forgiven the decision to put her under with Doyle in the first place. "I'm sure it will be a lovely surprise for him," he added, perhaps a little sarcastically.

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll be _thrilled _to hear that I got stabbed," she replied, matching his barbed tone.

He looked like he wanted to argue the point about whose fault that was exactly, but seemed to think better of it. "I'll never understand what exactly it is you see in him..." He didn't speak _his_ name, had never approved of their relationship – not that Emily had ever cared.

"Not that it's any of your business," she pointed out. "But he's not this monster you – and everyone else – like to make him out to be."

"Emily," he started to argue, looking like the vein in his forehead was about to burst.

"I don't have to explain myself to you, Clyde. You promised you'd get me out and now you have. Your job here is done."

He sighed wearily. "I just want to be absolutely certain this is what you want."

"It is," she insisted.

* * *

JJ came to see her the day the doctors were set to release her. She hadn't been certain anyone on the team would be trusted with the truth, with the knowledge that she'd survived, and a part of her ached that it had to be this way. Even if it was what she wanted. Knowing that she had even one friend out there...it felt like she could breathe again.

"I suppose they told you, then?" Emily asked, releasing JJ from a fond embrace. She wasn't sure which answer she was hoping for.

She nodded, offered a smile to show there were no hard feelings.

"_Everything_?"

JJ arched a brow curiously. "They told me about Doyle, about the mission... I know what you had to do," she whispered. "It's okay, Em, it's okay. I understand why you did what you did."

Emily shut her eyes, sighed. "That's... That's not..." She shook her head, changed the subject. "What happened to Doyle? What's being done to stop him?"

"He escaped the warehouse before we were able to apprehend him," she said apologetically. "But every law enforcement agency in the entire world is looking for him. He's Interpol's top priority and you know Morgan won't rest until he's put a bullet between his eyes..."

"I wish I could tell them all I'm sorry," she rasped, swallowing down the threat of tears. "I never wanted this..."

JJ chewed her lip for a moment, debating. "Can... Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," she agreed.

"Clyde... He said that this was for the best. That you'd be happier this way." She paused, glanced away as she blinked back a few tears. "What did he mean?"

Emily picked at her nails, unable to meet JJ's gaze as she decided how much of the truth to tell. "A long time ago, I left someone I love very much to stop Doyle – and people like him. I didn't realize at the time just how long we'd have to be apart."

"How long has it been?" JJ asked, studying her face, reading her emotions the way so very few people could.

"Eleven years," she said softly, sadly, but didn't elaborate.

"Wow..." JJ breathed. "That's... I can't imagine being apart from Will for so long."

Emily nodded slowly. "I'm sorry it had to be like this. It's not how I wanted things to go, not how I planned it, but..."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," JJ interrupted her, offering a tight smile. "You don't owe us anything – you gave us six good years, we can't ask for more than that." She reached over, squeezed Emily's hand. "Can I...ask where you're going?"

Emily opened her mouth to respond, then stopped, unsure. If she told her the truth, she'd be able to fill in a lot of blanks she wasn't sure she wanted to be filled. If she told her the truth, she risked everything she'd sacrificed for. "I... If I tell you... You can't tell anyone. Ever."

JJ nodded. "You can trust me with your secret."

She let out a shaky breath, uttered just one word, "Genosha."


	4. Chapter 4

The sound of helicopter blades in the distance was the first thing to alert Erik to the fact that something unplanned was happening and he was immediately on the defensive. A few of the other inhabitants of the island peered out from the doorways to their make-shift houses, but with one raised hand, he stood them down.

He approached the helicopter warily, ready to ground it at the first sign of trouble. But just as quickly as it had alighted, it was in the air again, leaving behind but one person. He couldn't make out their identity from this distance and he opened his mouth to call out to them, when they turned around and he felt his heart stop.

"Emily?" he breathed, hardly daring to believe it was really her.

Her face lit up brilliantly and in the next moment, she had her arms wrapped around his neck in the tightest embrace she could manage. Briefly, he was too stunned to move, unable to believe this was really happening, that she was really there. Once he regained control over his limbs, he returned the embrace just as fiercely. "Emily..." he breathed, voice trembling in spite of himself.

She pulled back to look in his eyes, a watery smile crossing her lips before she surged forwards to capture his lips in a searing kiss for the first time in eleven years. Hands on either side of his face, one thumb tracing along the stubble lining his jaw, she kept him close, almost as if she were afraid of him being taken from her again.

One of his hands tangled in her hair, the other hand on her hip, fingers pressing so hard into the skin that they were sure to leave bruises and she absolutely didn't care.

When they finally pulled apart for air, he brushed away the strands of hair that were sticking to the tears on her cheeks. "God, Em," he breathed, "Is it really you?"

A little laugh bubbled up. "It's really me," she whispered.

"After all these years..."

She nodded slowly. "I'm finally here."

"I've waited eleven years to hear you say that..."

All she could do was pull him into another kiss, unable to help herself now that he was finally with her.

Breaking the kiss, he swept her up in his arm, bridal style, making her laugh. She flung her arms around his neck as he carried her towards his – now their – house. "Be careful," she warned him, "I still have internal stitches..."

"Internal stitches?" he repeated, brows raised in concern. "What the hell happened to you, Em?"

She shook her head. "Another time," she said. She didn't want anything to spoil their reunion. "Right now, all I want is to enjoy having my husband in my arms again."

"That's not all you'll have..." he husked near her ear, making heat race to her core.

She groaned softly. "As much as I'd love to _have _you... I'm under strict orders not to exert myself."

His look of concern only increased, but he didn't say anything though he clearly wanted to. Instead, he replied, "I've waited eleven years for you, I can wait a few more days."

She smiled wickedly. "I'll make it worth every moment..."

* * *

For the first time in eleven years, Emily got to fall asleep next to her husband.

From the small window over their bed, the red-orange light of the setting sun spilled into the one room of the make-shift house. The late evening Genoshan heat was tempered by a light breeze through the open window just enough that sleeping curled up against his side wasn't oppressively warm. Not that anything would have stopped her from being close to him just then.

He stroked her back tenderly, fingers tracing up and down the ridges of her spine. Her hand splayed out on his bare chest, feeling his heart beating beneath her palm and, for the first time, she could really believe this moment was real.

"It's taken so long to get here, to have this moment...I'm afraid it's going to be taken from me again," she whispered, hardly daring to disturb the moment lest she shatter it and have it vanish forever, afraid that if she did, she'd find herself back in that warehouse, moments away from dying.

"I'll never let that happen," Erik replied. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I finally have you back, I'm not about to let you go again."

Tears welled up in her eyes in spite of herself and she blinked them back furiously, refusing to let them fall. Hearing her soft sniffles, he sat up, pulling her with him so he could see her properly. With his thumbs, he smudged away her tears.

"Em, there's nothing in this world that I'd let stand between us. I've been without you for far too long, I'd sooner die than be apart again," he said vehemently. He pulled her in for a tender kiss. "So long as I draw breath, I'm not letting you go."

She gave a watery smile, nodding slowly, but couldn't quite form words in the face of the strength of his love for her.

He looked at her like he was trying to memorize every detail of her face, commit them to memory. His fingers ghosted over a mark above her brow. "You have a scar," he said softly.

She had a _lot _of scars (she hadn't let him see the worst of them – the shamrock, the massive gash across her belly where she'd been stabbed). She didn't say that, though. "I took a two-by-four to the face," she explained.

"A two-by-four?" he repeated.

"It wasn't that bad, really," she insisted. "I mean, it was nothing compared to having my face smashed through a mirror."

"Jesus Christ, Em... What the hell were you doing in that unit?"

She couldn't help the small laugh that bubbled up. "You're one to talk," she pointed out, fingers dancing across fresh scars across his skin.

He laced his fingers with hers, brought her hand up to kiss her knuckles. It seemed they'd both gone through hell to be there, together. Maybe, for now, that knowledge was enough.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm ready to tell you what happened," Emily said into the peaceful quiet of the early evening.

Patience had never been his strong suit. He'd been doing his best not to pepper her with a million questions about what had happened and how she'd gotten out, but she knew he wanted answers, _deserved _answers after having waited so long. She tried not to let the fear of his reaction swallow her whole...

_They'd been married for two years when she'd first been poached by Interpol. She'd been told it was because of her Academy scores, her linguistic skills, and the fact that she'd grown up around mutants. She'd later learn it was because she was Doyle's type._

_She'd been anxious to prove herself an asset, to make a name for herself. Erik had been worried that she was too young, too inexperienced to be undercover (and, ultimately, he'd been right...). At the time, though, her assignments were short and relatively low-stakes and he'd trusted Clyde's promise that he wouldn't let anything happen to her._

_The Doyle assignment changed everything..._

Erik said nothing, instead dropping a kiss to her temple with uncharacteristic tenderness, a silent pledge that whatever terrible truth she was about to confess, he'd find a way to love her through it.

She couldn't quite meet his eyes, staring straight ahead at the glitter of the setting sun on the ocean waves. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words to explain. She stumbled, sighed, tried again. Finally, she managed to blurt out, "I'm dead." She could practically feel the waves of confusion rolling off of him. "Officially speaking," she added, as if that explained anything.

"You're _dead..._" he repeated.

She nodded, chewed at her thumb nail out of habit – it was a tic she'd developed in the aftermath of the Doyle assignment and had never quite managed to get rid of. "There's only a handful of people in the world who know I'm still alive. Even less who know why."

"What do you mean 'dead'?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Why?"

"Interpol faked my death – at least, that was the original plan. No one knew just how close I'd come to actually dying." She flicked her tongue out over her lip and, with a shaking hand, lifted the hem of her shirt to show him the angry red scar snaking across her abdomen.

He couldn't seem to help himself – he reached one hand over to touch his fingers to the wheal of scar tissue and she flinched involuntarily, less out of actual sensitivity than fear that it would somehow change how he felt about her.

In answer to his unasked question, she said, "I got stabbed...by a wooden stake." She hoped that added detail would keep the guilt from overwhelming him, knowing he couldn't have stopped it even if he'd been there.

"Who?" he asked, voice nearly trembling with anger. She didn't answer right away, knowing how angry he'd be. "_Who_, Emily?"

"Doyle," she whispered, eyes falling shut. "They were just supposed to frame him for my death, but it turned out a little more real than we'd anticipated..."

For several moments, he said nothing, and she could see him silently seething. "You never should have been under with him in the first place," he growled. "You were too young, too inexperienced to handle someone like him. They _knew _that – they _used _you..."

"I asked for the assignment," she murmured, resting a palm against his chest, his heart pounding a furious rhythm beneath it. "I wanted a chance to prove myself."

"And they took advantage of that."

In hindsight, he was right – Clyde had seen just how badly she'd wanted the assignment and he'd used that to his advantage in his desire to bring down Doyle. "They couldn't have known this would happen," she insisted, repeated, "They couldn't have known how close I'd come to dying..."

"How close?"

"I coded," she admitted quietly. "In the ambulance – just briefly, but they had to resuscitate me." She swallowed down her fear, her guilt, and finally met his gaze, watched the emotions that played across his face: the sadness, the fear, the anger...

"You never should have been in that position," he said. "None of this should have been allowed to happen."

She did agree with him, but right now, she needed to be the voice of reason and talk him down from the ledge that likely resulted in him taking revenge on Clyde and Doyle and everyone else in his path. "Whatever happened back then...it happened. But this time, I knew exactly what I was getting into and I took the fight to him anyway. I knew how dangerous he was, I had all the experience in the world, and I still went it alone. I fucked up. I let my emotions get in the way. But he'd threatened people I care about and I know you would have done the same thing in that situation."

"I could have lost you, Em..." he said softly, seeming to swallow down the barbs of his anger.

She nodded, offered a contrite look. "I know...I was foolish and hot-headed and stupid. But it's over now. I'm here, with you. That's what matters now."

He sighed, shook his head, but he did so fondly. He leaned down to kiss her, murmured against her lips, "You're too damn stubborn for your own good."

She couldn't help but laugh. "Der Esel nennt den anderen Langohr," she said.

"Touche," he admitted, pulling her into his chest. For several moments, he just held her there, relishing in the feel of having her in his arms again until he seemed to remember something. He reached in his pocket and pulled out her wedding band. "I found this this morning," he said.

Her face lit up with a smile. To keep him from ending up in any of her personnel files, to keep anyone from using her to get to him, she'd taken off her ring and kept him a secret from everyone close to her. She'd hated lying, hated the secrecy, but ultimately it had been safer. "I've been waiting for the day I could wear it again," she whispered, perhaps a little shakily, choked with emotion as she was.

Wordlessly, he slipped it on her finger for the second time.


	6. Chapter 6

The front door swung open and Emily turned as Erik entered, offered him a bright smile.

He took one look at her – dressed in a stretched out tank top and panties and nothing else – and groaned. "Are you trying to kill me?"

She glanced down at her outfit as if only just realizing why it might be objectionable. "It's too hot..." she whined, pouted.

"It's Africa," he pointed out, "What did you expect?"

She rolled her eyes. "I didn't expect my husband to object to me wearing _less _clothing..." she teased.

He approached behind her where she was leaning against the kitchen table, pressed his hips firmly against her ass so she could feel his growing hard-on. "Believe me," he husked beside her ear, "I have no objection..."

She let out a shuddering breath, eyes falling shut as his teeth grazed the shell of her ear. "I want you," she managed to choke out, words catching in her throat. "Please, Erik..." She shifted her hips back, putting pressure on his cock to punctuate her pleas.

His hand slid from where it was wrapped around her hip to cup her breast, finding her nipple already pebbled in spite of the heat. For a few moments, he teased the sensitive bud with his thumb, making her whimper with need.

Finally, she could stand his teasing no longer and she demanded, "Fuck me, Erik! Please..."

"Someone's impatient..." he scolded, his other hand travelling between her legs, stroking her faintly through her panties without giving her what she so desperately wanted.

"I've waited eleven years to be fucked by you," she said breathlessly, bucking her hips against his hand, desperate for more than he was giving her. "Damn right, I'm impatient."

He laughed and she could feel the deep rumble of it through his chest pressed up against her back. He pinched her nipple roughly, making her gasp. "Beg me," he demanded.

Her head lolled back against his shoulder, eyes shut tight. "Please, Erik," she said on a shuddering breath. "I _need _you."

"Tell me what you want," he pressed. One finger ghosted over her clit and she shuddered; he could feel the wetness already soaking her panties with the faintest ministration.

"I want you to fuck me," she begged, "I want your cock inside me, filling me up...I want it hard and rough until I can't fucking walk tomorrow. Please, fuck me – I need you so bad."

"Gladly," he growled, sending a tremor of excitement down her spine. He slipped two fingers inside her soaked pussy, slowly pumping them in and out, making her keen. "You're so fucking wet, Em..." he groaned and she could feel his cock twitching against her ass.

"I told you," she rasped, thrusting her hips against his hand, eager for more friction, "I've been waiting a long time for this..."

He curled his fingers inside her and she cried out sharply, legs nearly giving out from under her. He pumped his fingers sloppily in and out and she could hear the squelching sound of his fingers in her cunt, coated by her juices.

"Yes, Erik," she whimpered, "Right there..." She could feel herself clenching around his fingers, on the edge of release, but before she could quite get there, he'd removed his hand from inside her and she nearly sobbed at the lack of contact.

He offered his slick fingers to her and she eagerly took them into her mouth, tasting herself as she sucked them clean. "Good girl," he murmured. With the other hand, he tenderly swept the hair off the back of her neck, pressing soft kisses along her neck, then sank his teeth into her skin, making her squeak with surprise.

She released his fingers with a wet pop. "Stop teasing," she begged. "I want your cock..."

"You want me?" he taunted her. She could hear the sound of his zipper as he pulled out his cock.

She nodded eagerly.

"You going to take all of me like a good little girl?" He stroked his cock slowly, enjoying the sight of her bent over the table, dripping wet and begging for him.

"Erik, _please_," she nearly sobbed, desperate and ready to be fucked until she couldn't remember her own name.

Finally, he stopped teasing, lining himself up with her entrance and pushing inside with a groan. She gasped sharply at the intrusion – it had been so long since she'd been penetrated that the feel of his impressive length inside her took her breath away.

"Em, you feel so good," he groaned once he was fully seated within her.

She couldn't quite manage words just then, still struggling to breathe, simply nodding her agreement because _God_, did it feel good...

He withdrew slowly, cock nearly falling from her body before pushing back in, making her moan, head falling forward so that her hair swung down in a dark curtain past her eyes. He set a steady rhythm of push and pull, easily bringing her closer and closer to the edge of climax once again.

"I need more," she rasped, voice thick with wanton desire, "Harder..."

He chuckled softly, breath hot on the back of her neck, as he obliged, slamming into her forcefully enough that her hips bumped sharply against the edge of the table, sure to leave bruises.

"Touch yourself," he commanded as he quickened his pace, the only sounds in the room that of heavy breathing and the slap of flesh against flesh.

She obeyed, one hand going to her clit, rubbing it in sharp counterpoint to his thrusts, bringing herself that much closer to release. She could feel herself tightening around his cock, the sensation bringing a nearly animalistic growl of pleasure from deep in his throat.

"_Erik_," she cried, voice quivering with her heavy breathing, "You feel so good... I'm gonna cum..."

His hand came around her throat then, fingers deliberate and careful as they tighten and she gasped, a thrill chasing down her spine. She didn't know what exactly it was – the loss of control or the loss of oxygen or the rush of adrenalin – but something about the feeling of his fingers closing around her throat sent pleasure coursing through her like nothing else she'd ever experienced.

His thrusts became erratic and sloppy as his grip tightened and she struggled for air until he came with a guttural cry and a rush of cum deep inside her. His calloused fingers found her clit then and rubbed furiously against it until he felt her body go taut against him, every nerve, every muscle thrumming with the force of her orgasm.

His hand on her neck went slack then so he could hear her screams of pleasure as she came and she obliged, his name falling from her lips over and over, until she was completely spent.

"Was it worth the wait?" he asked as he pulled out of her.

She let out a small laugh as she caught her breath, still supporting herself against the table, not quite trusting her legs to support her just then. "I don't know..." she teased. "I might need another demonstration..."


	7. Chapter 7

"It's been a long time, Emily," Charles called from the dining area.

Emily moved through the rather cramped kitchen, making tea. She was particularly grateful he hadn't asked for coffee because her stomach was already turning as it was, so she wasn't sure she could've handled the scent of coffee. In the weeks leading up to the showdown with Doyle, she'd developed a rather severe ulcer that still hadn't quite healed and left her stomach sour and churning.

"A long time," she agreed, trying to remember exactly how many years it had been since she'd last spoken to him.

_Emily had grown up around mutants._

_Ever since she'd been a little girl, her mother had been the American Government's Ambassador to Mutants. She'd lived among them, played among them – in fact, at first, she hadn't realized she was any different from them._

_It hadn't been until, at the age of seven, she'd asked her mother when she'd be able to attend Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters that her mother had laughed and rather condescendingly told her that she was 'just a human, Dear' and to go play and leave her alone._

_Charles had been a little kinder in his approach. He frequently worked in close conjunction with her mother, giving speeches, and generally working to improve the global opinion of mutants, so it was no surprise when he found her moping in the gardens outside the Ambassadorial mansion._

"_What's wrong, Little One?" he'd asked her, extending a hand to stroke her messy hair off her tear-stained face._

_She looked up from where she was seated on the edge of the fountain, head in her hands as she pouted. "Mother said I'm just a human," she whimpered._

"_What's wrong with that?" he said with a laugh at her child-like melodrama._

"_I don't _want _to be human!" she whined. "I want to be a mutant like you!"_

"_Why do you want to be a mutant?" he asked patiently._

_She couldn't quite meet his eyes. "I want to be special..." she whispered._

"_You already are," he insisted. "In fact, I think one day, you'll be more important than anyone – especially your mother – even realizes..."_

"I imagine you're glad to be back," he remarked, interrupting her memory fugue.

Emily shook herself back into the moment, carefully set a mug of tea in front of him, trying not to slosh the hot liquid everywhere. "You have no idea," she agreed, settling into a chair across from him, legs curled up underneath her. She took a deep inhale of the peppermint aroma of her tea, hoping it would settle her stomach.

"Erik's been a wreck without you," Charles informed her – his lips quirked up to show that his was kidding...but only partly.

Emily laughed a little, nodding knowingly. "I've been informed I'm a large portion of his impulse control..."

Charles gave a snort of laughter. "Try all of it." He shook his head, then. "You changed him, Emily. For the better. And without you...he was lost. He was a ship without an anchor."

"I never wanted to leave him like that," she murmured, suddenly staring down at the table as if he needed her eyes to read her sadness. Her fingers danced skittishly around in the ring of condensation left by a glass of juice from that morning's breakfast.

"He was always proud of you," Charles said, almost apropos of nothing. He reached over to lay his hand on top of hers, stopping its frenetic movement.

She nodded slowly, distantly. "He was right, though. I was too young, too green for an assignment like that. I should have listened. I almost died because I thought I knew better, because I was stubborn and immature and so so determined to prove that I was _something_...something important."

"You always were," Charles insisted. "Especially to Erik. I think, all those years ago, when I told you that you were destined to be someone important, _this_ is what you were destined for." He gestured widely to indicate the entirety of the situation. "You turned him off a dark path, Emily. I've seen what he's capable of, who he might've become – when you changed him, you changed history. As corny as that might sound."

She attempted a wobbly smile as she attempted to parse his words and whether she believed them.

Again, he changed the subject. "He had me check in on you from time to time," he admitted. "While you were on assignment. To be sure you were alright." The look on her face must have been filled with panic because he quickly assured her, "I didn't tell him the whole truth, of course."

The knowledge of everything she'd done with Doyle to get the profile surged up her throat like bile. "It would kill him – he can never know," she urged.

At that moment, before anything further could be said on the subject, Erik ducked into the house, wiping sweat from his brow with his sleeve. He crossed the room to drop a kiss to the top of Emily's head. She smiled tenderly up at him, still after all this time, unable to believe that she'd survived to be here with him once again.

"I've just been having a friendly conversation with your lovely wife," Charles informed him conversationally.

"Not too friendly, I hope," Erik joked.

Emily glanced over at Charles, eyes sparkling with mischief. "You've caught us."

"Have you been enjoying having your wife home?" Charles asked with an equally mischievous grin.

"You have no idea," Erik said, smirking.

Emily rolled her eyes. "You're incorrigible," she muttered.

"Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it just as much," he retorted, fingers dancing along the back of her neck in a subtle reminder of _just _how much she'd enjoyed it...

The touch made a shiver race down her spine, but she tried to conceal it from eyes all too skilled at noticing... "That may be true," she said pointedly. "But there's no need to broadcast our sex life to everyone who asks."

That just made him laugh harder. "With Charles around, there's no need to _broadcast_ – if he wanted to know, he already would..."

She scoffed, rolled her eyes playfully. "Sometimes, you have all the maturity of a twelve year old boy. I don't know why I love you."

"As if you could've possibly resisted me," he retorted. "Don't act like you didn't have a crush on me before we ever met."

"Cocky bastard," she muttered under her breath...even if their banter made her feel like she was finally _home_.


	8. Chapter 8

Emily groaned, rolled over, groping at the nightstand.

Erik grunted, woken by the bed shifting. He rolled over, hand searching for her hip, her stomach. "What's going on?" he mumbled. "Is it...?"

"My phone," she replied sleepily, hand clasping the still buzzing phone on the nightstand.

He hummed a note of confusion. "No one knows you're here," he pointed out. "Who could be calling you?"

She didn't answer right away, frowning as she stared down at the screen. "Declan..." she whispered, fear closing around her stomach like a fist.

* * *

When Emily walked into the BAU, everyone's eyes were on her. Which, she supposed she should have expected, even if she wasn't 'dead'...

She attempted an awkward half smile, but could feel the trepidation clearly visible in it, wished she had a good answer for any of the questions they were surely about to ask.

She waited. For scorn. For condemnation. For any reaction at all in that moment where time seemed to stand still.

And then... Garcia was embracing her. A little awkward, a little hesitant, but an embrace all the same. And after a moment, Emily let out a shuddering breath and returned it.

When Garcia pulled away, she gave her a dubious once-over. "Look at you..." she said eventually.

Everyone was still staring at her and she could practically hear their thoughts, but had apparently temporarily lost all control over her speech.

Finally, Garcia could contain herself no longer and she said what was surely at the forefront of everyone's mind. "How far along are you?"

"Six months," she answered. She glanced down at her belly, stroked a hand over the swell so she didn't have to see them work out that, while it wasn't Doyle's baby, there was clearly something she wasn't telling them.

"Six months..." Reid spoke up first. "But that would mean..."

Hotch interrupted, "There will be time for catching up later."

"There's so much I want to tell you guys – and I will," Emily promised, "But right now, I really need to know what's going on with Declan."

* * *

"How's Will with the long hours again?" she asked JJ as they strode through the halls, her stomach still a pit of writhing nerves, hoping that if she acted as if everything were normal, maybe everyone else would too.

"Long story," JJ replied. And, if she knew what Emily was trying to do, she didn't follow her lead, asking, "But, I imagine it's a much less interesting story than the one behind that ring on your finger... Don't think I didn't notice. Is that new?"

She glanced down at her wedding band as if only just remembering it was there. She scraped her teeth along her bottom lip, debating how much of the truth to give. "How much did they tell you?" she asked.

"Enough to know you wanted out, not enough to know why," JJ answered vaguely.

She sighed slowly, shakily. "I, umm... I left to be with my husband," she said, voice barely a whisper.

JJ nodded silently, but it was clear from her expression that she was taken aback by the unexpected statement.

"You have to understand," Emily rushed to supply, "I wasn't planning on _dying_. When I asked Clyde to get me out, I just needed some time where I didn't have to _pretend_ – time to be with _him_, to reestablish my life... It wasn't supposed to be _permanent_."

"Then why?" JJ asked, voice so soft, but the hint of hurt in her tone still audible. "Why run? Why not let us help you?"

She shook her head a little, blinked back the threat of tears. "I couldn't let Doyle hurt anyone I cared about. When he threatened all of you..." She trailed off, tongue flicking out over her top lip. "I couldn't let him hurt my family." Her hand found JJ's and squeezed it gently, letting the simple gesture say all the things she just couldn't put into words.

She expected more – more questions she couldn't answer, more emotions cutting like a knife... Instead, JJ said, "So, who is it?"

The sudden change in subject startled her and she glanced quickly at her friend to find playfulness dancing about in her blue eyes.

When she failed to answer, JJ prompted again, "Who's the mysterious husband you've managed to keep secret for six years?"

Emily choked on an inhale, unsure why the question surprised her, but taken aback all the same. "Just some guy," she answered evasively.

JJ shook her head vehemently. "Nope. No way. You're not getting out of answering the question by being vague and evasive..."

"Jayje..." she nearly whined.

"I promise not to tell anyone," she begged. "I won't even have Garcia dig up all his dirty little secrets..."

Emily muttered to herself, "I'm pretty sure you already know all his secrets..."

"What was that?" JJ asked sharply, brows arching high on her forehead.

Emily sighed dramatically. "It's Erik Lensherr," she admitted, voice so quiet it was barely audible.

"_What_!?" she yelped.

"_Shhhh_!" Emily hissed. "Can we please not make a scene?"

"Sorry," she said, chagrined. She took a few deep breaths, tamping down the urge to demand each and every detail about the bombshell her friend had just dumped in her lap. "But you have to admit...that's a _huge _secret to keep from everyone."

"What was I supposed to say?" she countered. "Oh, hey, everyone, by the way I'm married to _Magneto_..."

JJ snorted with laughter. "Okay, fair. But still...you could have told _me_."

"I wanted to," she insisted. "Really, I did. It's just... You have no idea how hard it was to be apart for so long. At some point, it was just easier to ignore that gaping hole in my life, to pretend it wasn't there, than to face all that pain. You know?"

JJ's expression softened and she nodded slowly. "I can't imagine how hard that must've been," she said softly. Then, because she couldn't resist a little teasing, she added, "I'm sure that long-awaited reunion must explain that..." She nodded towards Emily's belly.

Emily gave a snort of laughter. "You could say that."


	9. Chapter 9

When she'd received the call from Tom Koehler, Emily had never thought she'd be _here_...about to stare down Ian Doyle for a third time and give away all the secrets she'd sacrificed everything to have. She knew she had to do this – for Declan – but that didn't mean she wasn't a nervous wreck over it.

The fingernails she'd worked so hard to grow out over the last seven months had already been chewed to shreds and she was dangerously close to losing her meagre breakfast. She did her best not to let on exactly how tremulous her emotional state was just then, but had a feeling it was no secret. (She was grateful, at least, that no one felt the need to voice her obvious anxiety.)

For what felt like an eternity as she stepped into the interrogation room, she and Ian just stared at each other because she was _dead_...and yet.

"Of course," Doyle said eventually, eyes still locked on hers, like he wasn't the least bit surprised.

"Which one is Declan's mom?" she asked, refusing to be kowtowed by his intense stare.

He didn't answer right away, watching her, the hand fixed to her belly almost as if to protect her child from him. "Well, you certainly didn't waste any time..." he remarked drily.

She didn't respond, pointing to the pictures again.

"You always said you weren't the maternal sort..."

"I said a lot of things to you – that doesn't mean it was true," she countered. "It was all a fantasy, Ian. I was never going to marry you, be the perfect little wife you wanted, raise your 'warriors'."

"See, I don't think it was..." he insisted. When she raised a brow in question, he continued, "I don't think it was all a lie. I think you felt something for me. No matter how much you might try to deny it to your friends, to yourself...you know that it wasn't just an act. No one is that good an actress..."

"Who is Declan's mom?" she repeated, rather than argue the point. It didn't matter whether he was right or not – all that mattered was that Declan was missing and the longer she spent trying to convince him the only thing she felt for him was hatred, the less likely it became that they'd recover Declan alive.

Finally, he pointed to one of the photographs. "Chloe Donaghy," he answered. "But she had nothing to do with this."

"How do you know?" she retorted, "Did you kill her too?" She attempted to resist the urge to make a sarcastic remark about hoping he'd done a better job than he had killing her...

"Because she tried to kill Declan before he was ever born."

She opened her mouth to respond, but couldn't find the words, mouth just hanging open slightly in stunned silence. And, before she could formulate any kind of response, a little foot pressed sharply against her ribs, making her wince, rub the sore spot.

Ian, of course, missed nothing, watching her with an intense stare. "Boy or girl?" he asked with uncharacteristic softness in his face.

"I don't know," she answered, not sure why she was telling him the truth, let alone answering him at all. "We're waiting to find out." She winced, having given away the fact that there was a _we_, expecting him to jump on the slip and interrogate her endlessly.

Instead, his gaze distant and far away, he murmured, "I always imagined us having a daughter – a little one who took after her mother in every way."

"Ian..." she started.

Seeming not to hear her, he continued, "Aisling Emma Doyle has a nice ring to it..."

"Ian!" she said louder, slamming her palms down on the table. "This isn't about _us_ – it's about Declan. If you care about him at all, you'll tell me what happened to Chloe."

His face darkened at the mention of her name. "Was I supposed to just let her kill my baby?" he asked, though it was obviously intended to be rhetorical. "I made sure she couldn't hurt him or herself until she safely delivered."

"How?" Emily pressed.

"I chained her to her bed," he answered with all the dryness of a dark joke.

For several moments, she stood there, once again stunned to silence.

"What would you have done?" he asked earnestly.

"Ian, I..." she started, stopped, shook her head.

"Would you have had my baby?" he pressed.

"It would never have happened," she answered firmly. But, in her heart, she knew that if, in spite of the extreme care she took with her birth control, if it had failed...after what had happened in Rome, she would never be able to do that again. No matter who the father was, she couldn't have been able to abort a second child. But she couldn't say any of that, so she pressed forth in the interrogation, "Who are her contacts in the States?"

If he suspected there was more to the story than she was letting on, he didn't say so. "Whoever they are, they're as good as dead. She works with people, sucks them dry, then moves on." He paused, thought for a moment, then questioned, "She never wanted Declan – why would she take him?"

"This is about _you_, Ian. You just told me you kept her a prisoner for nine months!"

"Seven," he corrected.

"_Seven_," she repeated sarcastically. "Did Louise help deliver Declan?"

"Yes."

She slammed a new picture down on the table in front of him. "That's called revenge, Ian! Chloe didn't just _forget_ about what you put her through..."

Seemingly not understanding the problem, he repeated, "She would rather have been dead than to have my baby – what was I supposed to do?"

"Chaining her to a bed wasn't the answer!"

"She received a lot of money for her troubles," he replied simply.

"That was _torture_, Ian. And you don't think she spent _years_ figuring out how to do the same to you? _She_ took the only thing you love..."


	10. Chapter 10

"_No, Emily, _no_ – absolutely not," _Erik said firmly.

"I wasn't asking for permission," she replied, doing her best to remain calm while still conveying exactly how urgent the situation was. Neither of them was exactly all that good at remaining clear-headed and reasonable in the face of their anger, though...

"_Did you happen to forget that you're _pregnant_?" _he reminded.

* * *

In the bullpen, Garcia, Morgan, and JJ crowded around Reid's desk to watch Emily pace the roundtable room, phone to her ear. They were all still in shock that she was even alive, let alone alive, married, and pregnant...

"Who do you think she's talking to?" Reid asked, breaking the laden silence in which they were all surely speculating on the same thing.

"Probably whoever put that rock on her hand," Garcia said, referencing her ring, "And that baby in her belly..." She waggled her brows, smile full of mischief at the chance to make wild conjectures on a new rumour.

"Are we _sure _the kid's not Doyle's?" Morgan asked gravely. While he'd perhaps been the most upset about the idea of Emily sleeping with Doyle, he couldn't seem to let go of his guilt over not being able to reach her in time and the thought that that lapse may have given Doyle the chance to rape her refused to leave him alone.

"She said..." Reid piped up, eager to defend her lest he have to live with that same guilt.

"I know what she said, but would you want to admit..." he trailed off, not able to say the actual words of what he was implying. He shook his head, inhaled shakily, that guilt and anger rearing its head in his chest.

"It's not Doyle's," JJ insisted, attempting to be the voice of reason before things got out of hand.

"How do you know?" Garcia asked suspiciously. She studied JJ with narrowed eyes, attempting to read her, but JJ remained steadfast in the face of her interrogation. "What did she tell you?" Garcia pressed, "Whose is it?" She clapped her hands together eagerly at the prospect of gossip.

"She asked me not to tell you," JJ murmured in apology. "You're just going to have to trust me."

* * *

"Erik, you're going to have to trust me," she begged. "I know what I'm doing and I would never do anything to put myself at risk while..."

He cut her off, _"Emily, you're talking about taking a man who very nearly succeeded in killing you into an armed standoff...and you want me to trust __that you're not going to be in danger__?"_

"You make it sound like I'll be standing in front of a firing squad," she deadpanned, rolling her eyes, only because she knew he couldn't see it.

"_Emily..."_ he warned, not amused.

* * *

"Trust you?" Derek repeated skeptically, the wound of learning he'd grieved his best friend's death for nothing still too fresh, too raw for him to simply let the innocent phrase slide without comment.

JJ sighed, eyes falling shut. She wasn't surprised that he was taking it the hardest, but that didn't mean it was any easier to face his anger. "Yes, I knew she was alive," she conceded, holding her hands up in supplication, "But I didn't know where they took her – she only just told me where she was, who she was with..."

"Wait..." Reid spoke suddenly, interrupting them as if the thought had only just occurred to him. "How could she have met someone and gotten married so quickly? We know she doesn't trust that easily..."

"There's no way," Morgan agreed. "It would have to have been someone she already knew. Probably someone she knew long before she met us."

* * *

"After all that time you've known me, you seriously think I'd deliberately put _our _child in danger?" she asked incredulously, temper flaring. "You _know _how badly I wanted this baby..."

"_Emily, are you hearing what you're asking?"_

"Not asking," she said flatly.

_"If it's that important, I'll come down there and..."_

* * *

Garcia's eyes lit up. She clapped a hand to her heart as if she were about to recite a Shakespearean sonnet. "A whirlwind star-crossed lovers relationship torn asunder by time and space only to reconnect when she needed him the most..." she waxed poetic.

"Baby girl, you are _crazy_."

"I'm a _romantic_!" she retorted, glaring playfully at Morgan before rounding on JJ with a look that might have been intimidating on someone else...someone who wasn't wearing a bright yellow sweater and a giant flower in her hair. "Spill," she commanded.

"I'm not going to betray her trust," JJ insisted. "She'll tell us when she's ready."

"_Please_..." Garcia begged, pouting a just a little. "Just give us a hint."

JJ heaved a weary sigh, wondering why she hadn't expected this exact reaction. "Let's just say, it's someone you've heard of."

* * *

"No, Erik! You can't do that!" She felt like her heart was pounding somewhere in her throat.

"_I'll do whatever it takes to protect my family."_

"Protect it by staying away," she begged, dangerously close to tears. "Erik, please... I died so I could be with you, to protect your new life of peace, please don't risk everything I sacrificed."

"_You're asking my to stand by while you walk head-first into danger..."_

"You've never had a problem doing the same," she countered. "Erik, please, just let me do this. I know what I'm doing and..."

"_I won't see another person I love die," _he interrupted with grave seriousness.

* * *

Jumping upon that piece of information like it was a grenade and she was the hero in an action movie, Garcia had proceeded to pepper JJ with guesses. "A member of the Royal Family? No, no...a move star? No, no..."

"Garcia, stop," JJ begged. "I'm not going to tell you who it is. You're just going to have to wait until she's ready."

"My money's on Clyde Easter," Derek interjected. "They _definitely _had something going on while she was with JTF-12..."

Garcia's eyes lit up. "Ooooh... They'd be so cute together – I totally ship it."

JJ just rolled her eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

"Why's the bloody plane stopping!?" Lachlan demanded.

"Do I look like a fucking pilot?" Chloe replied sharply.

The plane engines revved, struggled, trying to regain forward momentum.

Growling low in his throat, Lachlan stomped into the cockpit, ordering, "Move the damn plane!"

"I can't," the pilot insisted, gesturing at the control panel where lights flickered erratically and alarms blared and droned. "Something's restraining us..."

Lachlan opened his mouth to, no doubt, shout obscenities, when a figure descended into view. "What's _he _doing here!?" he shouted.

* * *

Lights flashing, sirens shrilly whining, the SUVs screeched to a stop on the tarmac to find an unexpected scene playing out.

"Is that...?" Hotch asked, trailing off. He squinted at the far off figure hovering a few hundred feet in the air.

"It can't be," Rossi replied. "Why _would _it be? What interest could he possibly have in stopping McDermott?"

Hotch shook his head. He didn't have an answer for that. Stepping out of the SUV, he announced, "Lachlan McDermott and Chloe Donaghy, this is the FBI."

* * *

"You called the Feds?" Lachlan shouted.

"Why would I do that?" Chloe snapped.

"We know you have Declan," came Hotch's voice over the bullhorn, "To ensure his safety, we would like to trade: we will give you Ian Doyle and you send us the boy."

"No! This was not our deal!" Chloe insisted, attempting to block his path to the back of the plane where Declan cowered.

"No," he agreed, "But it just got interesting..."

"You're not leaving!"

* * *

The door to the plane was suddenly ripped off its hinges, skidding across the tarmac with a shower of sparks.

"It's him," Rossi said needlessly as if the rest of them hadn't already figured out exactly who they were dealing with.

Hotch nodded once. They hadn't been prepared for this development, didn't have weapons that would be of any use should things go pear-shaped. He leaned into the comm to warn, "Be respectful – he doesn't have to cooperate with us..."

"Erik Lensherr, show me your hands!" Morgan ordered, diverting his gun to take aim at Erik's chest in spite of Hotch's warning.

Emily emerged from the helicopter just in time to see Erik alight on the tarmac and, with one hand, lower the plane's steps. "Erik!" she cried out a warning.

He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of Emily's voice, but offered no sign that he'd heard or even recognized her. He turned back to the plane, holding his hands up to show he wasn't a threat. "I'm not here to hurt anyone," he called out.

"We aren't here for you," Morgan informed him, "We don't want to fight you."

"I get that a lot," Erik remarked drily.

"This is a Federal case," JJ called out, "You need to leave this to the authorities."

Emily shot Erik a warning look and he didn't need to be a telepath to know that she was none too pleased that he'd ignored her pleas and showed up anyway. But he wasn't about to let her walk into a situation this volatile and unpredictable without being there to ensure no harm befell her. He'd seen all too clearly what could happen...

"I'm afraid I can't do that..."

Anything further he might have said was interrupted by Lachlan marching Declan down the plane steps onto the airstrip. "Get over there, go on," he commanded the boy. He brandished his gun in Doyle's direction. "Bring Doyle here!"

Emily and Reid took Ian by the elbows, moving to lead him towards Lachlan and a sure death. Emily kept glancing at Ian, not sure what she was expecting from him, only that it wasn't the passive compliance he was showing.

"I want him here, on his knees!" Lachlan shouted, making Declan flinch.

They didn't get very far before Erik raised a hand, lifting Doyle into the air by his handcuffs. Emily and Reid stumbled back in surprise as their prisoner was suddenly thrust several feet in the air.

Lachlan rounded on Erik, gun aimed square at his chest as if it would be of any use. "You stay out of this!" he howled with rage. "Doyle is mine!"

"I'm not interested in your petty squabbles," Erik said disdainfully. "I'd be more than happy to leave the bastard to your mercy...unfortunately, he nearly killed my wife."

Reid glanced sharply at Emily, mouth hanging open slightly. She just shook her head – now was far from the time to open that particular can of worms.

"Hotch, are we really gonna let this happen?" Morgan asked over the comm link.

"We're not here to start a war..." Hotch said warningly. That wasn't really an answer and they both knew that.

Lachlan demanded, "Hand him over or I blow the boy's brains out..." He cocked the gun, aiming it at Declan's head.

With his other hand, Erik sent Lachlan's gun skittering across the tarmac.

At that moment, Chloe came staggering down the steps, gun in hand. With a trembling hand, she lifted her weapon, taking aim at Lachlan.

"Gun!" Morgan shouted.

In the next few moments, several things happened almost simultaneously.

Chloe fired off one shot. Blood loss and pain making her arm shake, the bullet whizzed past her target and towards Emily.

Erik's focus lost, Doyle came crashing down to the asphalt below, landing in a heap of limbs. Having spotted the weapon a split second before Morgan, he reacted first, diverting the bullet's path...hitting Doyle in the neck.

Reid fired at Chloe, missing.

Chloe loosed several more shots – one of which hit Lachlan – until she herself was gunned down.

Several bodies fell at once.

Emily dropped to her knees, pulling Declan into her chest protectively.

Time seemed to speed up then and chaos erupted across the airstrip in the wake of Chloe's swathe of destruction.

Erik jogged the distance separating him from Emily, dropping to his knees and inspecting her for any injuries.

"Erik!" she scolded. She attempted to push him away. "Erik, I'm fine!"

He ignored her interjections until he was satisfied she truly was unharmed, then pulled her into his chest, nearly crushing her with the intensity of his embrace.

"_Erik_," she grumbled, voice muffled by his chest. She pushed him back. "I told you not to come!"

"Emily, you almost died," he said plainly, refusing to be chastized for saving her life. "I stopped that bullet, in case you missed that part."

"You also compromised a Federal investigation," she pointed out.

"What's the government going to do to me that it hasn't already done?" he asked and she had to admit that he was right.

She sighed heavily, reached over to rest a hand on his cheek, and offered a soft smile. "Thank you," she whispered. "For saving Declan." She leaned in to kiss him, well aware of the half dozen sets of eyes watching them, but unable to bring herself to care in that moment.


	12. Chapter 12

Emily sat in the back of the SUV, Declan curled into her side, fast asleep after the day's events. Her arm wrapped around his shoulders, gently stroking his blonde curls. It wasn't clear whether it was more for Declan's comfort or hers.

The door opened and Erik climbed into the backseat beside her. For a moment, neither of them said anything.

"You shouldn't have come," she whispered, not looking at him. "I told you not to come and you ignored me."

"Emily..." he started to protest.

"You compromised the investigation and nearly got Declan killed. I told you this was under control and you should have trusted me," she scolded.

"Emily, you're one of the few people I genuinely trust in this world. But you have to understand... I've seen too many lives lost or ruined because of a tiny piece of metal that I had the power to stop." She still wasn't looking at him, so he reached over to gently force her to meet his eyes. "I love you too much to ever let that happen. Even if that means ruining a federal investigation."

"Erik, you can't just go off half-cocked like that anymore – not if you want to stay on the government's good side." Then, she added under her breath, "Not to mention _my _good side."

He laughed quietly, but there was a sombre edge to it. Neither said anything, merely watching Declan sleep. "So, what now?" he asked at length.

She shook her head slowly. She honestly didn't know.

* * *

"Thank you," Emily murmured to Rossi as they stepped into the foyer of his palatial house, "For putting us up for the night. I promise we'll be out of your hair tomorrow."

She didn't think she could have handled staying with anyone else right now – between Reid's tremulous emotional state and Garcia's nosiness, Rossi's place was a downright haven. Besides, he'd been around long enough that mutants weren't exactly a spectacle any longer; even Erik with his _reputation _(admittedly, a well-earned one) wasn't of particular interest to Rossi (although, she wouldn't have been surprised if he gave Erik a cliched _if you hurt her... _speech when she was out of earshot).

For his part, Erik said nothing. If she had to guess, he was studying their surroundings for anything that could be used as a weapon should the need arise. (She thought about elbowing him as a reminder to be polite, but – on second thought – sometimes, the less Erik said, the better...)

"Don't worry about it, Cara," Rossi replied, stroking a hand over her hair fondly, then pulling her into his side so her could kiss her temple in that paternal manner he had. "You're welcome to stay as long as you need."

She flashed an appreciative smile, but shook her head, perhaps a little sadly. "We'll be heading back to Genosha as soon as the case paperwork is finalized." She watched as his face fell, her smile turning to apology in response. She didn't say anything though. There was nothing to say.

"I thought..." he started, stopped, tried again, "I thought, now that Doyle is out of the picture, that you would stay." She could tell that he was trying hard to keep his expression neutral, as if she didn't know him well enough to see clear through his attempts to the disappointment underneath.

"It was never about Doyle," she whispered, not quite able to meet his gaze. "It wasn't about you guys. It was about being with my husband again. I never wanted to _die_, I just wanted to be...happy." She must have realized how that sounded because a moment later, she rushed to explain, "Not that I wasn't happy here – I just wasn't _whole_. I'm sure you understand... Surely you felt that with at least one of your wives?"

He sighed, nodded slowly. He _did _understand. That didn't mean he liked it, though.

She offered him another smile, this one in apology. Then, because she couldn't face his disappointment any longer, she said, "It's been a really long day – and I'm exhausted for two now." She laughed weakly at the joke, even though it really wasn't that funny, but it was easier to fill the silence with that than words like _I'm sorry _or _Goodbye..._

* * *

"You want to stay." It wasn't a question or an accusation, merely a statement.

"Erik..." she said on a sigh. It wasn't an answer. It didn't need to be.

"I don't need to be a telepath to read your thoughts, Emily... I know you far too well." He wasn't looking at her, but watching her expression in the dresser mirror.

She sat on the edge of the bed, picking at her nails with single-minded focus. For a long time, she didn't answer, didn't give any sign that she'd even heard him. "I don't know what I want," she whispered at length. It was true enough, but perhaps not the _whole _truth.

"Are you unhappy?" he asked quietly, entirely too unlike himself. He turned then, needing to see the truth in her eyes.

"Erik, _no_," she insisted, looking up sharply, eyes silently pleading with him to believe her. "Never."

"Then, why?" he pressed. "Why do you want to stay?"

"It's just..." she started, stopped, heaved another sigh. "This place, these people have been the only life I knew for the last six years. I didn't go into this expecting to find a home, a _family_, but that's what I found. I know it doesn't make sense, but...the idea of starting all over – even if it is with _you_ – terrifies me." She shrugged helplessly, indicating that she didn't understand it any more than he did.

"Emily, I..." he started.

She interrupted before he could say anything more. "But everything I went through, it was for you – for _us –_ so, whatever _this _is, I'll deal with it. I'm ready to go home. To be a family. To be together." She offered a faint smile then, but it didn't quite reach her eyes, a dead giveaway that her heart wasn't really in it.


	13. Chapter 13

It was barely four-thirty in the morning when Emily trudged downstairs, yawning, surprised to find a light still on in Rossi's study. She quietly padded to the threshold, watching for a moment as he stared at his keyboard as if deep in thought, one hand stroking his beard. She knocked softly on the door frame to get his attention.

He looked up sharply. "What are you still doing awake, Cara?" he asked. He gestured to the sofa that sat against one wall, indicating she should sit.

Awkwardly lowering herself onto the sofa, she answered, "Little bugger is keeping me up..." She prodded her belly where two tiny feet pressed firmly against her ribs. "Everyone always tells you what a miracle pregnancy is...they just leave out that it's a really fucking _uncomfortable _miracle." Silence followed for a few moments and she seemed to rethink her griping then. "Don't get me wrong – I'm so glad to be pregnant. It's just..." She shrugged.

"Uncomfortable," he finished for her with a knowing smile.

She echoed his smile back to him. "What are you working on?" she asked with a nod towards his computer screen.

"I wouldn't exactly call it 'working'," he muttered. "But it's _supposed _to be my new book. Let's just say, recent months haven't exactly been standouts, creatively."

She winced a little. "I hope your publisher doesn't plan on billing me," she attempted to joke.

He smiled a little, but it was clear it was mostly to humour her. "You know, you should think about writing a book," he said, almost apropos of nothing.

"Me?"

"Now that the Doyle case isn't classified anymore," he expanded. "I'm sure my publisher would be _very _interested..."

"I'll think about it," she said softly, then let out a little puff of breath, rubbing the spot where the baby was currently tenderizing her lungs. "Did you want to feel her kick?" she asked.

"Her?"

She winced. "Oops. That was supposed to be a secret..."

He chuckled softly. "The second generation's first girl. You just know Garcia is going to have a whole lot to say about that."

"You're not kidding. I have nightmares about the kind of clothing she'll be dressing my daughter in..." she (mostly) joked.

"She'll be the best dressed person on Genosha."

She watched his expression turn sad at that and she couldn't help the guilt that surged through her. She didn't say anything though, knowing there was really nothing to say that wouldn't seem trite. She let out a shaky breath; she wasn't _good _at this...

There was nothing he could say that was going to change her mind and they both knew that, so he didn't try and she was grateful for that. "You're happy?" he asked quietly. "Out there?"

She nodded slowly. "I am." She was silent for a moment, scraping her teeth across her bottom lip, knowing in that moment that he saw through her like glass. "Am I doing the wrong thing?" she whispered eventually, steering into the skid. When he remained silent, she explained, "Raising her out there, all alone, no family there to help me... I have no idea what I'm doing, no clue how to be a mother and I am _so _scared that I'm going to...I don't know, screw her up somehow."

"I think all parents have that fear," he assured her.

"Not all parents might be raising an incredibly powerful mutant," she replied pointedly. It was the first time she'd spoken that particular fear aloud, unable to even admit it to Erik because she didn't want him to think she wouldn't love their daughter if she was like him... "How the hell am I supposed to help my own daughter through life when she'll have powers I can't even begin to fathom?"

"And what if she's just like you?" he countered.

She gave a small humourless laugh. "That doesn't fill me with confidence," she said wryly.

"Emily, you're not going to permanently scar your daughter," he promised her. Ignoring her scoff, he continued, "In spite of what you might think, I can think of few people better equipped to be a mother. You'll be just fine."

She offered a faint smile at the reassurance, knowing he genuinely meant it. "You know, I always thought I'd have JJ there to talk me down from the ledge during the period of purple crying..." She shook her head slowly. "I never thought I'd be doing it alone."

"You're not going to be doing it alone – we're always going to be a part of your life," he insisted. "We're still family, even if you're thousands of miles away on an island mutant haven."

"Genosha's not exactly the most human friendly place around," she pointed out.

"Well, they'll just have to deal with a few normal people hanging around because we're not about to not spoil the newest BAU baby just because they're not fans," he vowed. He winked.

"She's lucky," she murmured, staring down at her belly. "To have all of you."

"Not just her."

She raised a brow.

"You too, Emily. You'll always have us."

* * *

Emily awoke with a start.

She didn't remember having fallen asleep again, but a glance at the clock told her she'd been asleep for almost three hours.

"You'd better be really cute," she muttered to her belly, "Because you're killing me here, kid..." As if in response movement fluttered under her palm. "I accept your apology."

Scrubbing a hand through her sleep-mussed hair, she wandered into the foyer in search of what had woken her.

"Rossi?" she asked, finding him standing in front of the door, staring down at the contents of a thick envelope. "Everything alright?"

He looked up suddenly as if having forgotten she was there. He waved an identical envelope, looking grim. "Looks like you won't be headed home quite as quickly as you thought..."

She raised a brow in confusion as he handed her the envelope with her name on it.

"We're being deposed," he answered darkly.


	14. Chapter 14

By the time all the legal niceties were taken care of and the deposition finished, it simply didn't make sense to return to Genosha – where there was no hospital equipped for labour and delivery – before the birth.

Emily was far too pregnant to travel anyway...and in absolutely no mood to sit still for several hours straight while they flew across the Atlantic.

Currently, she was pacing back and forth the guest room (Rossi had _insisted_ they stay until they could return home), in spite of the fact that Erik was trying to sleep and she knew she was keeping him awake.

"Come to bed, Em," he urged. "You're going to wear a groove in the floor..."

"I can't sleep," she grumbled, kneading the small of her back which was permanently sore. Along with her permanently aching hips and her permanently swollen feet and her permanently squished bladder.

He heaved a sigh that was just a little annoyed as he pushed himself to sit up against the headboard so he could turn on the other bedside lamp to properly affix her with an irritated glare. "Well, can you at least pace in the dark so one of us can get some rest?"

"Fuck you, Erik," she snapped. "This is _your _fault."

"_My _fault?" he repeated incredulously. He shook his head then, trailing off. He knew better than to argue, even if it was entirely unlike him to swallow a barb like that.

She knew she was lucky he loved her so much because she was kind of a bitch lately. She _knew_ she was being a bitch, but she was just so fucking _uncomfortable _and sick of being pregnant.

"What would you like me to do, Emily?" he asked pointedly.

"Fuck me," she said, straight-forward and to the point.

Erik nearly choked on an inhale. "Excuse me?" he asked, brows so high on his forehead they nearly disappeared into his hairline.

She had barely allowed him to so much as touch her for the past three months, hyper-sensitive and hyper-irritable as she was, so the request was more than a little surprising.

"Fuck me," she repeated, just as deadpan.

"Emily, I'm not sure... I don't..." he stammered.

"I want this baby _out_," she said emphatically. "_Now_." She narrowed her eyes and fixed him with a dangerous expression. "Unless you don't find me attractive right now...?" It wasn't a question, it was a threat.

Erik Lensherr was not a stupid man. He knew that refusing her right now might mean the only person he had sex with for the next year and a half would be his hand. Not that he could come out and _say _that, of course.

"Em, if you want sex, you just have to ask," he assured her. "I'd only assumed you wanted your space because, as you've repeatedly said, you're extremely uncomfortable." (Not to mention he wasn't all that keen on having Rossi overhear...)

"I'm getting this baby out _today_," she repeated. And, with that made abundantly clear, she pulled off the stretched-out t-shirt that she wore, leaving her standing there in her panties, giving him a look like she was daring him to say anything about her swollen belly and distended breasts.

For a moment, he just stared at her hungrily. And, even though she'd been the one to initiate, she suddenly felt almost shy under the intensity of his gaze.

Raising a brow, he teased, "Are you just going to stand there or are you going to join me?" He was just as eager for her not to be pregnant anymore (if for no other reason than the hope that she'd stop being so bitchy...), not that he could say that to her.

Rather awkwardly, she lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, suddenly seeming lost and unsure.

Approaching behind her, he gently kneaded her shoulders, dropped a kiss behind her ear. "Em," he murmured beside her ear, "You're so beautiful – you've never been more beautiful than you are with our daughter growing inside you." One hand came to rest on her belly, gently stroking the swell of it.

She smiled shyly at the compliment. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words got caught in her throat as his hand crept down her stomach, inside her panties, to find her clit. "_Erik_," she managed to gasp, hips bucking up in response as he stroked the sensitive bundle of nerves.

It took barely any time at all for him to get her worked up to the brink of orgasm and, by the time he slipped two fingers inside of her, she was already panting and mewling and begging for more and she'd soaked through her panties.

He worked his fingers inside her for a few moments until she was nearly sobbing with need, squirming about in a helpless attempt to get more friction than he was giving her. "Please, Erik," she begged, "_Please_..."

"Get on your knees," he commanded, removing his fingers from inside her. His tone left no room for her to argue (not that she was in any mood to argue, so long as he continued to give her what she wanted).

Obeying, albeit with a bit of difficulty, she manoeuvred onto her hands and knees, biting down on her cheek to keep from grinning too widely, ready and eager to be properly fucked as she was. For a few moments, there was no movement, no sound from behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder to fix him with an impatient glare.

Instead of reprimanding him, though, she just smirked, watching at he pulled his cock from his boxers, stroking himself at the sight of her bent over, desperate and needy for him, even at nine months pregnant.

He must have sensed her impatience, then, because he caught her eyes, flashing her a mischievous grin as he positioned himself behind her and, sliding her panties to the side, pushed inside her needy cunt with a grunt.

She let out a little whimper at the intrusion, even as her hips pushed back against him, taking him in to the hilt.

He only managed about six thrusts, though, before, she let out a sharp – decidedly more urgent – gasp. "Fuck!" she hissed.

"Already?" he asked with a little laugh.

"No," she panted, "I think that was a contraction..."

"_Already_?" he repeated, incredulously this time.


	15. Chapter 15

Derek knocked timidly on the door to Emily's hospital room, poking his head inside and glancing quickly about.

"Erik's not here," Emily informed him without looking up from the tiny baby currently latched to her breast. She smiled down at the infant, gently stroking her soft tuft of auburn hair as she suckled greedily.

"I didn't... I'm not..." he stammered, even as he stepped fully into the room with her reassurance. "That's not what..."

She looked up then, brow raised in an expression that clearly said _'don't bullshit me'_, seeing through him clear as glass. She knew him far too well. She always had. (He'd thought he known her that well too, but that was an issue for another day.)

He cleared his throat, stood up a little straighter under her stare. "Don't get me wrong, he can be..._intimidating_ at times, but I'm not _afraid _of him."

She just shook her head, grinning to herself. "I won't tell him you're scared of him," she promised teasingly.

He shook his head, refusing to validate her teasing with a response. "I just came to see how you and Baby were doing," he said, approaching beside the bed with a tender smile on his face. The general consensus had always been that Emily would make a wonderful mother and finally seeing her in the role she'd so obviously longed for was heartwarming.

As if sensing the approach of a stranger, the baby stopped suckling then so she could peer up at him with her startling blue eyes, seemingly weighing whether or not she needed to start screaming.

"We're both doing fine," Emily said in answer, smiling at her daughter with a light in her eyes like he'd never seen. "Did you want to hold her?

The baby started squalling then, squirming about in Emily's arms as if preparing to scream.

"I'm not sure she likes me..."

"I just need to burp her," Emily assured him. "It's not you. Probably."

"I'm really not all that great with babies," he still wavered, watching as she lightly tapped the baby's back. He liked babies, really, but he always felt rather like a bull in a china shop around newborns.

"Nonsense," she retorted. "I saw you with Henry – you're a natural." She gestured for him to get close enough that she could pass him the baby.

"Yeah, but I'm not afraid of Will," he added in a mutter she wasn't sure she was supposed to have heard. But in spite of his hesitance, he accepted the little blanket-wrapped bundle, bringing her into his chest with reverent hands, bouncing her a little nervously.

For several long moments, there was silence. Emily watched with a soft smile as her best friend – _assuming he still considered her a friend after faking her own death –_ held her daughter and her heart felt full because even though she'd sacrificed so much to get here, she'd somehow gotten to have everything she wanted but never thought could co-exist.

"She's gorgeous, Emily," he said eventually, breaking the silence. "She looks just like you."

She gave a small laugh. "Are you kidding? She's the spitting image of her father."

"Well, I can't exactly go about calling _him _gorgeous, now can I?" he joked, tipping her a wink. He thought of something then. "What did you end up naming the little princess?" he asked.

(She and Erik had spent the last nine months locked in heated debate over what to name the baby. He wanted to give the baby a German name. She didn't want their daughter to have a name befitting a moustached weight-lifter. If he'd taken offence to her saying that, he'd wisely chosen not to argue with her at the height of her hormonal over-emotional irrational state.)

"It wasn't easy," she admitted – which was, in fact, an understatement. "But we decided her name is Isadora Rosalinde Lensherr."

"Isadora," he repeated thoughtfully, brushing a little bubble of spittle away from the baby's lips. "What do you think, Little Is? Are you the new Baby Girl in town?"

Emily laughed softly. "Garcia's already been to see her – I think she might willingly give up the title, she's absolutely tickled pink about having a niece."

Isadora yawned then, little rosebud lips stretching wide. Emily passed Derek a pacifier to give her without comment, already instinctively sensing the baby's every need.

"So, umm..." He cleared his throat. "When will you know if she's...you know..."

"A mutant?" she supplied. She knew it was the question on everyone's mind, even if some of them couldn't or wouldn't voice it. She shrugged. "I have no idea. But I'll love her anyway."

"Of course you will," he rushed to assure her. "I just... Aren't you nervous?"

"Terrified," she admitted in a whisper. "Not about that, though." He raised a brow quizzically. "You've met my mother, right?" she answered his unasked question.

He gave a snort of what might've been laughter. "Touche. But you're nothing like her, Em. That much I know."

She smiled gratefully.

"Speaking of your mother... Does she know she's a grandmother?"

She heaved a weary sigh. "Mother has never approved of my relationship with Erik. She would've much rather seen me settle down with one of the X-Men – that would've been politically useful for her image." She chewed her lip in thought for a moment. "I'll tell her soon. For now I just want to enjoy being a mom before being told why I'm failing at it."

He opened his mouth as if to reassure her that she wasn't a failure, no matter what her mother said, but was interrupted by Erik's return.

He passed Emily a cup of tea, kissing her forehead, looking at her with so much love in his eyes that Derek felt almost voyeuristic for witnessing it. "How's my little Röschen?" he asked, glancing over at Derek who suddenly looked as if he were holding a bomb rather than a baby.

"She just ate," Emily explained. "She's probably ready for a long nap. I know _I _am..."

"I should probably go," Derek said quietly, passing Isadora back to her mother. He then extended a hand to shake Erik's. "Congratulations. She's beautiful."

He returned the handshake, but his gaze never left the baby. "She's perfect," he agreed softly.


	16. Chapter 16

"She's beautiful, Old Friend," Charles murmured softly, smiling down at the infant in his arms. "How does it feel to be a father?" He glanced up at Erik, smiling to himself at the absolutely smitten look on his face, eyes never leaving his daughter.

"It's..." He shook his head, unable to articulate the feeling. "It's incredible. I've never felt this kind of all-consuming love before.

Charles didn't say it, but couldn't help but think that Erik looked like an entirely new man – one unmarred by years of anger and pain and revenge. A man who had only room for love in his heart. (He'd once told Emily that she'd changed Erik – and she had – but this little girl had changed him even more.)

"How's Emily doing?" he asked.

"She lost more blood than the doctors like to see – she lost consciousness a few times after the delivery," Erik answered, a flicker of worry in his eyes. "They're keeping a close eye on her, but they don't expect she'll need to stay here more than a few days."

Charles didn't need to be a telepath to know the very real fear that Erik had felt – was still feeling. He'd nearly lost Emily once, losing her a second time would surely break him. He didn't say that, though, didn't want Erik to dwell. "Knowing Emily was well as I do, I'm sure she'd say it was worth it to bring this beautiful little girl into the world."

Erik rolled his eyes, shook his head. "Those were almost her exact words. She has no regard for her own life..."

"Reminds me of someone else I know," he remarked cheekily.

Erik just rolled his eyes again, knowing full well what he'd meant.

"So, when will you be returning to Genosha?" Charles asked, changing the subject. "I imagine you're eager to return home and have some normalcy to your life once again. Much as life can be normal with a newborn..."

Erik pursed his lips. "That remains a point of contention," he remarked drily. Charles raised a brow in question. "She hasn't said as much, but now that she's 'alive' again, I don't know that Emily will so readily give up her friends..."

Nodding his understanding, Charles offered, "They were like a family to her for seven years... When you spend as much time together as they surely did, you form an unbreakable bond with someone. I imagine it would be incredibly difficult to give that up so easily."

Erik didn't say that she'd spent eleven years apart from him. He didn't have to.

"You have to remember, Emily grew up never having the chance to form friendships, which is incredibly traumatic for an adolescent – I know that you can relate to that as well. She also never had a strong familial bond. In this found family, she finally has that anchor. It's not that she doesn't love you, doesn't want to have a home with you, but you also can't expect her to just forsake the last seven years."

He sighed. "I'm not expecting that. I was just hoping that when she returned to Genosha, that we could move forwards, not backwards."

"Well, it was a very sudden and unexpected diversion from her life," Charles pointed out. "Maybe, given some time to say proper goodbyes, she'll be ready to move on."

At that moment, Garcia wheeled Emily back into the room (Emily looked rather annoyed at being relegated to a wheelchair, in spite of her continued insistence that she could walk – the nurses refused to listen to her, considering she got light-headed if she stood for too long). Helping her transfer back into her bed, Garcia whispered something in Emily's ear; she was still rather intimidated and perhaps a little starstruck by Erik's presence.

"Of course, you can hold her," Emily assured her with a fond smile. "Charles doesn't bite."

Charles grinned. "Penelope Garcia, I presume?" he said by way of greeting the brilliantly dressed – and very hard to mistake – woman.

Garcia gave a little squeak, then nodded. If she was starstruck by Erik who actively shunned and avoided media attention as much as possible, then an entirely new word would have to be invented for the emotion she felt being face-to-face with Charles Xavier who was _literally _a superhero.

"Emily's told me a lot about you," he said, offering her the baby.

(She seemed unsure who she was more excited about: Charles or the baby...)

As Garcia took Isadora into her arms, she cleared her throat, suddenly seeming to find her voice again. "OMG, Professor X, it is _so _cool to meet you. Like in person. I still can't believe Emily knows you! My friends are _never _going to believe this!"

"Please, call me Charles," he said, trying not to laugh at her obvious excitement.

Isadora, on the other hand, squinted up at the new face, seeming rather perturbed by the overexcitement surrounding her.

"Well, then please call me the Oracle of All Things Knowable," Garcia chirped, winked. She bounced the squirming baby in her arms. "It's not a mutation, but I'm pretty sure I'm as close as any human gets."

Charles laughed then. "Oh, based on everything Emily's told me, you deserve an honorary place at the School..."

"Well, someone has to teach this baby girl how to hack," she said seriously, stroking the baby's chubby cheeks with one finger. She leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, staining the baby pink skin with bright red lipstick. "I'm so glad someone finally had a little girl for me to spoil," she added with a wink at Emily. "I've been waiting _years _to dress someone in pink and hairbows..." Then, leaning down to whisper to the baby, she added, "Don't listen to your mother when she attempts to exert her goth tendencies on you."

Emily just smiled fondly, looking like her entire world was at peace in that moment.

Charles glanced at Erik whose eyes were fixed on Emily, surely seeing that same contentedness on her face. Whether or not he took Charles' words to heart, though, remained to be seen...


	17. Chapter 17

Erik wasn't used to having so many people care about him...

Whether he wanted it or not, it seemed that he'd been immediately accepted as part of the BAU family, simply because of his proximity to Emily. It was an odd feeling – one that would take some getting used to.

He was starting to realize, though – as one by one, Emily's friends had filtered in to meet the new baby – just how difficult it was going to be for Emily to say goodbye to everyone, now that she had the choice.

Hotch had held the baby and tried to pretend like he wasn't smiling. When he congratulated Erik, his eyes held begrudging respect – for Emily's sake, more than anything else – but there was no mistaking the hint of almost paternal distrust on her behalf.

Rossi, on the other hand, was boisterous in his greeting, clapping Erik on the back and passing him a cigar with an unspoken invitation to join him outside and smoke together. He bounced Isadora in his arms like a proud grandfather she wouldn't otherwise have. Erik could see why Emily spoke so highly of him.

Reid had come with a small library of books for the baby and, while Emily had read to her, Reid had talked Erik's ear off about the X gene and the research on how it was passed down and the statistics of whether or not Isadora would be a mutant. It was endearing, in way...not unlike Charles.

Garcia visited often and always came bearing gifts until Emily practically begged her to stop (she'd refused citing her right as 'Fairy Godmother'). It was immediately clear just how much she loved the baby, almost as if she were her own, and part of Erik softened with the knowledge that his daughter would never _ever _be alone...even if Garcia's particular brand of overt affection made him slightly uncomfortable.

Morgan visited often as well, but was more laidback in his adoration of the baby, though it was clear he loved her just as much. It was clear, though, from the way he couldn't quite meet Emily's eyes, that there was still so much left unsaid between them. Erik knew that Derek had been one of Emily's closest friends and he could tell just how much it cut her that she'd broken the trust between them. Much as he might want to fix it, though, he knew this was something she had to do for herself.

The day JJ visited, Emily was on the verge of a breakdown. Isadora had gone on what the nurses were calling a 'nursing strike' and no matter how many times she was assured otherwise, Emily had it firmly entrenched in her brain that she was failing as a mother. Nothing Erik said or did would convince her of her parenting abilities.

When JJ showed up, Emily was in tears, desperately trying to convince the baby to take her breast and, even though she was clearly hungry, Isadora was resolutely refusing.

Emily looked up at JJ with tears in her eyes and begged, "What am I doing wrong?"

"Nothing," JJ assured her. "This is just something babies do..."

"Really?" Emily asked, sniffling and blinking back tears. Even though Erik had said the same thing, it appeared she was only going to believe it coming from JJ's mouth.

She nodded. "Henry went on a nursing strike at six months – he got really congested and couldn't breathe while he was eating," she explained. "But we got through it and you will too."

"I feel like a terrible mother," she said, breath coming in hiccups. "I can't even feed my own kid – this is exactly what I was afraid of!"

JJ sat on the edge of the bed so she was at Emily's eye level, offering her a comforting smile as she brushed her hair away from her face. "I'm going to help you, okay? And even if you have to bottle feed her, it doesn't mean you've failed. She's going to be just fine."

Emily nodded, gave her a watery smile.

* * *

With JJ's gentle guidance, Emily had managed to get the baby to eat and, tuckered out by all the crying, mother and daughter almost immediately fell asleep as soon as the feeding was over. JJ gently eased Isadora out of Emily's arms and placed her in the bassinet, smiling fondly.

"I thought I'd be enough..." Erik said, almost apropos of nothing. When JJ looked at him with a brow raised, he seemed as surprised at his words as she was. In spite of himself, he continued on, explaining, "I thought that we could do it on our own. That we'd go back to Genosha and be this happy little family by ourselves, that we didn't need anyone else to support us because we had each other."

JJ's smile was compassionate. "It's never the way you think it's going to be... Being a new parent is _hard_ and I don't know that I could have done it alone. It really does take a village."

Erik seemed to think on that for a long time.

As if reading his mind, she offered, "She's scared to do this alone because she's never had anyone rely on her before, never wanted anyone to depend on her because she doesn't trust herself. She trusts you, though, that much I'm sure of. And if you think you can be her sole support in this, you can tell her that and she'll believe you. But you need to be _certain_ of it."

"I..." he stammered, suddenly unsure.

"We all care about Emily and we all want what's best for her and the baby and you, believe it or not. We want to be there for you and help you through this because it's not going to be easy and you'll both make mistakes and you'll fight over the smallest things...but Isadora will still need you and you'll still need each other. And, whether you want to or not, sometimes you're going to need help. It's up to you whether you accept it..."


	18. Chapter 18

Emily had just settled Isadora into the crib JJ had lent them (that Morgan had dutifully set up in one of Rossi's spare rooms) and for several moments, she just stood there, staring at her baby daughter not quite able to believe that she was real and she was here and she was _hers_.

"Leave her sleep, mein Herz," Erik murmured from the doorway where he'd been watching her. A tender smile played about his lips, thinking the same thing about both of them.

She glanced over her shoulder at the unexpected voice; she hadn't realized he'd been standing there. She crossed the nursery to wrap him in an embrace, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him softly. "I can't believe how much I love her," she murmured, glancing again at the sleeping baby.

He nodded his agreement, following her gaze, watching the baby's little lips puckering in her sleep as if eager to suckle. "Come on," he gently cajoled once more, "You need your rest too." As if to punctuate his statement, he lifted her into his arms, carrying her out of the makeshift nursery and into their room.

She playfully glared at him. "I can walk..."

"I know you _can_, but I also know that given the choice, you'd stand there all night watching her sleep," he countered.

She had to admit he was right, even if only to herself.

As she settled under the covers, it suddenly hit her just how exhausted she truly was – she'd been so focused on getting out of the hospital and bringing her daughter home that the exertion of the birth had been pushed to the back of her mind until this moment. She leaned back against the headboard, fiddling with the baby monitor, attempting to adjust the volume, a soft smile crossing her lips as Isadora's soft breathing filtered through the speaker.

Erik settled in beside her, pressing a kiss to her temple. "She'll be fine," he assured her once again.

"I know," she agreed, then turned to fix him with a raised brow. "Don't pretend you aren't just as overprotective as I am..."

He just smiled as he took the baby monitor from her hand, setting it on the nightstand. He reached for her hand then, lacing their fingers together, thumb gently brushing the back of her hand. She followed his gaze to where it had landed on her hospital bracelet (_FALL RISK_ it declared in bold black letters). And, in spite of not being a telepath, in spite of having no mutation at all, only an understanding of human behaviour and an intimate knowledge of his mind, she knew what he was thinking.

"Now that I'm out of the hospital, you're ready to go back to Genosha," she murmured knowingly.

He sighed wearily. He'd known that sooner or later they'd have to have this conversation, but that didn't make him any more eager to actually do so.

"It's okay," she assured him when he didn't speak. "I know how hard you've worked to build a haven for mutants. I know how much it means to you."

He nodded slowly. "You've worked hard to create a safer world for our daughter to grow up in," he countered. "I don't know that I've ever told you how much I respect and appreciate that..."

His sudden loquaciousness surprised Emily. "Erik, what's going on?" she asked gently, squeezing his hand.

"I think we should stay here," he said suddenly, lest he wait too long and change his mind. "I think it's important that you stay and say goodbye to your friends, properly this time."

"I don't need..." she insisted.

He didn't let her finish, though. "I don't want you to have any regrets. When you moved to Genosha to be with me, you gave up more than I realized. When we return, I want it to be on your terms so that ten, fifteen years down the road you don't hold it against me that you've had to sacrifice so much. I want it to be your decision."

"But Genosha is your life's work!" she maintained. "I can't ask you to give that up, even just for awhile."

"You're not. Genosha will be fine without me for a while longer. But the next few months are going to be difficult – for you, for _us_ – and I want you to have the support of your friends to get you through it." He offered her a gentle smile. "I'm used to not depending on anyone...and it's a lonely way to live. I don't want that for you and I don't want that for Isadora."

"Erik, I... I don't know what to say," she stammered.

He shook his head. "You don't have to say anything."

She gave him a watery smile, overwhelmed by emotion. Eventually, she nodded slowly. "Okay." Then, with a contented sigh, she snuggled into his chest and, for a few moments, just lay there in silence, listening to his heartbeat. Eventually, she pressed a soft kiss to his bare chest, settling in for sleep.

After a few moments, though, he spoke up, voice so soft it was barely there at all. "I've watched my entire family be taken from me," he murmured. "She's the only flesh and blood I have left...I want to give her the world."

"I know," she whispered. "No one is ever going to love that little girl more than you."

"I never thought I'd have this," he confessed. "For so long, my life was about revenge and harming those who had wronged me – I never expected to live long enough to have any sort of normalcy, of contentment. I never thought I'd be able to give enough of myself to love someone so fully that I could share every part of myself with them. I never thought I'd feel that safe."

"You're safe with me," she vowed. "All the dark parts, the soft parts, the parts so raw from trauma they seem to never heal. They're all safe with me."

He nodded. "I know," he murmured.

That was all the assurance she needed.


	19. Chapter 19

Emily propped Isadora against her shoulder, gently tapping her back to make her burp. Wordlessly, Erik approached behind her to wipe the spit up off the baby's chin.

He leaned down to kiss the top of Emily's head. Then, murmured by her ear, "I think you should reach out to your mother."

Her stunned silence extended for what felt like hours. "What?" she finally asked, deadpan. "Why on Earth would I do that?"

He circled in front of her, kneeling down to meet her eyes. "Emily..."

"Erik," she said pointedly, "She never called to check on me – not even once – while I was pregnant."

He just kept staring at her, that same expectant look in his eyes.

"_Erik_," she said again, more desperate. "She's never even pretended to like you and she barely tolerates me, what makes you think a baby is going to change anything?"

"She has a right to meet her granddaughter," he said reasonably.

"Why? She was a _terrible_ mother, what makes you think she'll be any different as a grandmother?"

Erik gently stroked Isadora's head. "Em, your mother is the only blood relative she has. Don't you think she deserves to know her?"

She heaved a sigh, staring down at the baby's sleepy face, knowing in her gut that he was right, but hating to admit it.

"_Fine_," she conceded at length. "I'll call her."

"It'll be fine," he assured her, easing the baby from her and setting her in the crib.

"We'll see," she said darkly.

* * *

Emily hadn't actually expected her mother to pick up the phone, let alone be eager and willing to come meet her granddaughter. Elizabeth wasn't exactly known for her comfort around babies – or children of any age, really...so Emily was rather mystified by her sudden enthusiasm.

But, knowing that it was important to Erik that Isadora know her family, she'd invited her mother to lunch so she could meet the baby.

That didn't mean she was excited or even remotely looking forward to the meeting, though... She watched the restaurant door, looking more like she was anticipating an armed gunman than her own mother.

"Would you relax?" Erik said gently, "It's not going to be as bad as you're expecting."

"How can you be so sure?" she deadpanned. "This is the woman who once told me I was dressed like a whore – I was eleven..."

He tried not to laugh at her pointed expression. "Well," he conceded, looking for a bright side, "At least she's paying for lunch..."

Emily snorted with laughter, though it was short-lived when she spotted her mother's approach.

"Hello, Emily," Elizabeth greeted primly. She glanced over at Erik, looking like she'd tasted something sour. "Mr. Lensherr."

Emily sighed audibly.

Elizabeth obviously heard it, but failed to react. "And this must be my granddaughter," she said, nodding to the carseat where Isadora was sleeping.

"She had a terrible night, so she's still napping," Emily explained. "But she should be hungry soon."

Elizabeth nodded, took the empty seat next to Emily. "So, how have you been faring as a new parent?"

Emily couldn't help but smile as she glanced down at the baby. "It's been wonderful – she's such a well-behaved little baby. We had a bit of a rocky start in the hospital, but now she's nursing like a champ."

"Oh. You're nursing?" she asked with obvious distaste.

She rolled her eyes. "Nursing is scientifically proven to be the best thing for an infant's health."

"_You _were formula fed," Elizabeth pointed out. "And you turned out fine." The way she said it made it clear she'd taken the comment as a personal slight.

"Yes, well, I've decided to nurse _my_ baby." Anything further she might have said on the matter was interrupted by Isadora waking and fussing shrilly. "Hello, pretty girl," Emily cooed as she lifted her from the carseat. "You must be so hungry in that little tummy." She tickled the baby's belly.

Elizabeth pointedly diverted her gaze as Emily pulled up her blouse so the baby could latch on to her breast.

"Does she take after her father?" Elizabeth asked, staring deliberately at the menu to avoid the apparently scandalous sight of a baby breastfeeding.

Emily knew what she was asking, but pretended she didn't. "Her hair is still light, but I have a feeling it will turn red as she gets older. She already has his beautiful blue eyes."

Elizabeth sighed in irritation. "You know that's not what I was asking..."

"Does it matter?" Erik asked, seeing the way Emily's temper was rising and hoping to head off the oncoming argument before it started.

Elizabeth's gaze finally landed on him again as if seeing him for the first time. "I only want what's best for her."

"Mother, it doesn't matter," Emily said without raising her voice as she stared down at Isadora, stoking her cheek with one finger. "I couldn't care less whether she has a mutation or not. She's my daughter and she's perfect as she is.

"Here's the thing, Mother: growing up, I never felt like you accepted me for who I was and that's not a mistake I intend to make with my daughter. And if you intend to be a fixture in our lives, you're going to have to get on board with that because honestly, I don't need anything from you anymore."

For several moments of what seemed an interminable length, there was stunned silence. Finally, Elizabeth nodded once, in concession. "I'll do my best," she said.

Isadora, now fully sated, pulled away from the breast, looking about with inquisitive eyes.

"Would you like to hold her?" Emily offered, extending the baby towards her mother.

Elizabeth took the baby, though she looked a little dubious about it. "Hello, Isadora," she greeted.

Isadora returned her grandmother's greeting by promptly spitting up all over the front of her formal blazer.

Emily winced, bit down on a smile that threatened to burst forth. She passed her mother a burp cloth, while exchanging a smirk with Erik.

Dabbing at the spit up, Elizabeth didn't seem to know how to react. Emily reached to take the baby back, but her mother stopped her. "It's fine," she insisted. "It's what babies do."

That surprised Emily. "Really?"

She nodded. "I know I wasn't the best mother, but I want to do better – to _be _better. I'm going to try harder, okay? And I suppose that might involve getting a bit of curdled milk on my blouse." A pause. "And I believe I owe you an apology, Mr. Lensherr – _Erik_. I know I haven't always been the kindest person, bit you're my daughter's husband, so you're obviously not the person everyone makes you out to be. I hope to get to know the person she sees."

Emily smiled, perhaps a little watery. "Thank you, Mother. That's all I ask."


	20. Chapter 20

Emily yawned widely, trying to cover it with her hand as if that would disguise just how exhausted she was. As much as she was enjoying everyone's company and as much fun as the evening was, there was no getting around the fact that all the sleepless nights were catching up to her. (And it didn't help that she had a belly full of Rossi's incredible cooking...)

She'd brought Isadora with her because she knew the baby would want to eat before the night was through and also because she knew Garcia would never let her hear the end of it if she didn't get to cuddle the baby at least briefly.

(Erik, however had not wanted to come. She'd insisted he was welcome to join them, but she'd pointed out that there was sure to be some emotional catharsis involved and he'd decided he would rather get some much needed rest – for which she couldn't exactly blame him.)

Currently, Isadora was squirming about in the baby wrap as Emily attempted to disentangle the two of them so she could feed her. Since that first day in the hospital, the two of them had more or less gotten feeding down to a well-oiled machine, for which she was extremely grateful, after hearing all sorts of horror stories about breastfeeding being difficult.

She was grateful for a lot of things...not least of which was that she got to share her beautiful daughter with the people that meant so much to her.

In the kitchen, boisterous laughter filled the room, the notes floating into the living room where she sat. She was startled, then, by a soft voice announcing, "Did you know that breast milk is a living substance which contains live cells, including stem cells, millions of white blood cells, and as many as six hundred different species of bacteria?"

She looked up with a warm smile on her lips. "Hey, Reid," she greeted as he wandered away from the kitchen, hands jammed deep in his pockets in his signature awkward way – she had to wonder if his discomfort was because he was unsure where their friendship stood after everything or because he felt uncomfortable around babies.

He sat down across from her, clearly trying to avoid looking too long at her; realization dawned on her then that his awkwardness was because of her exposed breast.

Of everyone on the team, Reid was the one who had spent the least time with Isadora. She couldn't help but worry that it was her fault, that he was trying to keep himself from getting too close out of fear of being hurt again...

"I'm sorry, you know?" she murmured at length. When he raised a brow in question, she added, "For the way that I left..."

He nodded, not quite meeting her gaze. "I know," he confirmed, but didn't say anything more.

"It wasn't because I don't love you guys," she continued. "And I'm so glad that everything worked out the way it did because now I get to share this with you. I'm not sure how I would have handled these last few months without everyone's support."

"I'm sure you would have done fine," he said. "You always seem to manage somehow..."

That may have been true, she had to concede, though she didn't say as much. "They say it takes a village," she said, "And I may be biased, but I think she's got one of the best..." She smiled softly at him.

"Does that mean you're planning to stay?" he asked quietly, almost daring to hope.

"For the time being," she conceded, "Though likely not forever – Genosha needs Erik. And Isadora needs her father." She offered an apologetic look that was at least part sadness, part guilt.

For a moment, Reid looked torn over what response to give, but his genius brain eventually won out and he couldn't help spouting out, "It's actually a very interesting experiment of sorts, Genosha... In recorded history, there's never been an all-mutant society. It would be intriguing to study the social dynamics at play."

Emily couldn't help but laugh softly at the familiar Reid-like rambling. "I think if anyone _were _to study Genosha, Erik would find you the least objectionable..."

He looked surprised by that. "Really?" he squeaked. "Wh-why? I mean... I didn't think he liked me very much..."

"I think you remind him of Charles," she said with a shrug. "Only without so much of the baggage between them. And it doesn't hurt that I'm fond of you as well."

As Isadora finished nursing and Emily gently tapped her back to burp her, Reid watched with interest. "The name Isadora is of Greek and Latin origin, meaning 'gift of Isis' who was, oddly enough, an Egyptian Goddess. Aretalogies differ in their attributions of hers, though it's generally agreed upon that she was a protector of women and children, of marriage and parenthood. And, in some texts, she's a protector of virginity."

Emily gave a little snort of laughter. "Well, then, I hope her namesake looks after her because I'm not exactly a spectacular model of virginal purity. Though, to be fair, with Erik for a father, she'll be lucky to have a boyfriend for longer than the five minutes it takes to introduce them..."

He smiled softly. "You're a good mother," he said, almost a whisper.

"You think so?" she asked. "Sometimes, I'm not so sure."

"I know so," he confirmed. "But then, I always knew you would be."

Smiling shyly, she offered, "Do you want to hold her? You haven't really had as much time with her as everyone else..."

He seemed about to hesitate, but then thought better of it, nodded, accepting the little bundle she was already passing him. He held the baby up in front of him, offered her a smile that quirked up one side of his lips. "Hello, Isadora," he said diplomatically.

The baby blinked at him, almost studiously, then reached out a hand as if to pat his cheek.

Reid laughed, kissed her palm. "Nice to meet you too."


	21. Chapter 21

Emily wrestled with the jogging stroller, singing softly to Isadora who was fussing in her carseat. "Stupid fucking stroller," she muttered under her breath between verses. Much as she appreciated JJ lending her the stroller, she would have appreciated it more if it had come with instructions.

A hand landed on her shoulder and she whirled around, fists at the ready, barely stopping herself from punching Morgan square in the face. "Jesus Christ, Derek! You nearly got your ass kicked!"

He laughed heartily. "It looked like you were having some trouble, I just wanted to help..."

"So, you decided to scare the shit out of me?" With a huff, she finally got the stroller to click into place. She moved to puck the baby up from her carseat, but Morgan stopped her.

"Let me get her," he said, moving past her to get Isadora from the car. "Hello, Baby Girl," he cooed. "How's my favourite little strawberry doing today?"

Emily smiled softly as he bounced the baby. "She's doing fantastic – if fantastic includes spitting up all over her mother and sneezing in her face..."

He snorted with laughter, but wisely said nothing as he buckled her into the stroller. "Well, are we ready to go?"

"I don't know – are you ready to eat my dust?"

He rolled his eyes. "Big talk...but can you back it up, Mama?" He stuck his tongue out childishly.

She shook her head at his immaturity. "You'll have to go easy on me, I haven't worked out since she was born."

"Then this is going to be a great time for me," he said with a smirk.

She glared. "I may still have my baby belly, but I can still kick your ass," she warned.

* * *

"So, when are you coming back to work?" Morgan asked as they jogged through the park together. "Things aren't the same without you around..."

"You're just saying that because Rossi isn't as easy on the eyes," she teased.

He laughed. "Don't tell _him_ that, he's very sensitive," he joked. "I just wondered if you'd heard about the ten hours of take-down and arrest procedure training you need to recertify."

"What?" she asked, nearly tripping over a rock on the path. "Since when?"

"Since the hearing," he said with a shrug as he ran alongside her.

She frowned, chanced a curious glance over at him, searching for some kind of tell. "Am I the only one?"

"Prentiss, you've been away," he pointed out, giving nothing away with his expression.

"Oh, yeah..." She shrugged one shoulder in concession. "I guess I can't complain..."

His level expression broke into a grin then. "Especially not to your trainer..." he informed her, almost teasingly.

Her eyes lit up in echo of his enthusiasm. "Oh! You're doing it?"

He jogged a little to get in front of her, turning to run backwards. "Don't get too excited," he warned, "I'm about to put you through the wringer, you can believe that."

* * *

"I can't believe he'd do this!" Emily growled as she hung up the phone, shoving it into her pocket like it had personally done her wrong.

Erik glanced up at her from the floor of Rossi's living room where he was lying on his stomach, making the little metal pacifier clip adorned with various brightly coloured silicon teething beads dance in the air in front of Isadora's face to coax her to enjoy her tummy time more. "What happened?" he asked, curious as to the source of her sour mood.

"Hotch didn't order my take-down recertification, apparently," she informed him.

"Oh?"

"That means Morgan decided all on his own," she elaborated. "Which means he obviously doesn't trust me anymore."

Concentration broken, the pacifier clip fell to the floor and Isadora protested with a petulant whine. Standing, Erik picked up the baby and moved to rest a hand on Emily's hip. "Why are you so bent out of shape over this?" he asked gently.

"We used to be partners!" she said, perhaps a little desperately. "No matter what, we had each other's back. He was the one person I could always _always _trust and now, he looks at me like he doesn't even recognize me!"

"Em," he said gently, "You have to know that he's been through a lot with your disappearance and sudden reappearance. He's had to acclimatize himself to a new partner while also feeling like your so-called death was his fault. He's probably worried that he was going to let the team down again and now, he's likely worried about letting _you _down again."

She nodded slowly, chewed her lip. "I hate it when you're right," she grumbled, which only made him laugh. She leaned in to kiss him. "Maybe some practice couldn't exactly hurt..."

* * *

Emily was sitting on the edge of her old desk in the bullpen when Morgan flicked off the light in his office and emerged upon finishing the paperwork from the latest case. He stopped in his path when he saw her there. "What are you doing here, Em?" he asked, "Shouldn't you be home with your baby girl?"

She stood, crossed the bullpen to walk with him down to the parking garage. "It's bath time," she explained, "It's Erik's turn to wrestle her into the tub – she's surprisingly strong when she wants to be."

He laughed a little, waited for her to explain her presence. When she didn't offer anything further, he asked again, "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?"

Giving him a chance to explain, she said, "Hotch didn't order my take-down recertification... Do you want to tell me what's really going on?"

He sighed, having guessed this might come up sooner or later. "I just thought we both could use a refresher," he said.

She raised a pointed brow. "You mean, you thought _I_ could use it – you're nervous about me being back."

"Emily..."

"You think I'm going to mess up the team's rhythm," she continued, apparently forgetting the promise she'd made to herself to keep calm. "I get it, but just come out and say it." When he didn't say anything, she pressed, "Morgan..."

"Okay, fine, yes," he relented. "I _am_ nervous – but not about you, about _me_. Emily, I thought I lost you and I blamed myself. Now you're back, but I don't want to be worried about losing you again and get distracted."

She nodded slowly, tongue flicking out over her bottom lip. "So you wanted some reassurance," she finished for him.

"Yeah, something like that," he agreed.

"Morgan, I cannot imagine what you went through..." she whispered.

He sighed, shook his head. "It was seven months of hell."

"How can I make it up to you?" she asked, almost desperate to make it up to him. "I will do whatever it takes."

He smiled softly. "Just give me ten hours of training."

"Okay, you got it."

"Shooting range on Sundays," he added.

"I'm there," she consented.

Then, unable to resist being a little cheeky, he said, "And my morning coffee and a neck rub everyday..."

She scoffed, rolled her eyes, "Oh buddy, you are _really_ pushing it."


	22. Chapter 22

"I think I'm going to throw up," Emily insisted. "I really think I'm going to be sick..."

Erik was trying very hard not to roll his eyes. "Don't you think you might be acting a bit dramatic?" he asked her. "This isn't the first time we've been through this – you were fine and she was fine."

That was the wrong thing to say, evidently, because she rounded on him, glaring. "I didn't realize it was _dramatic _not to enjoy seeing your child in pain..."

"No one said anything about _enjoying _it," he pointed out, "But it's only a few needles, she'll barely even feel them. Just like last time. And the time before that."

"You don't know that," she insisted.

"And even if it does hurt, she won't remember this," he continued.

"I know!" she snapped, "But she is a _baby _and she's going to cry and I can't stand to see her in pain..."

Erik sighed, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side so he could drop a kiss to her temple. "I know, but just remember that we're doing this to keep her healthy and safe."

She nodded, exhaled slowly. "You're right," she said. "I know you're right. I've just never done this whole Mom thing before..."

Though he didn't voice it, he knew exactly what she meant – until recently, he'd never cared so much about someone that their pain felt like his own. Wordlessly, he unbuckled Isadora from her carseat and lifted her into his arms.

The baby stared up at him with her brilliant blue eyes, framed by impossibly long lashes. The ghost of a smile tugged at her rosebud lips as she reached out to her father, making a grabbing motion with her little fingers.

Erik met her reach, took her tiny hand in his own, bending so that he could kiss her palm. When she'd been born, he'd promised to protect her from pain, from heartbreak, from the very real evil he'd seen in the world...but he was starting to realize there was so very much he couldn't protect her from.

* * *

Erik glanced in the rearview mirror at Isadora sleeping peacefully in her carseat as they drove home. She'd barely so much as batted an eye at the needle prick, preoccupied as she was by nursing – in fact, she'd seemed more annoyed by the interruption than anything else.

Glancing back to the road ahead, he asked, almost apropos of nothing, "What do you think about it?"

Emily raised a brow, looked over at him with mild amusement playing about her lips. "You'll have to be a little more specific..."

He didn't look away from the road as he said, "Trying again."

Now that the baby was approaching six months old, the fact that Emily was breastfeeding would no longer protect them against conceiving again, the doctor had informed them. And, considering her advanced maternal age, if they wanted to try again, now was the optimal time to do it.

For a long moment, Emily remained silent, not quite sure how to respond. Not sure he'd like the response if she did.

"Emily?" he prompted when her silence extended too long.

"Doesn't it seem a little soon?" she asked softly. "Isadora is a miracle, we got lucky that she turned out so perfectly – but there are so many things that could have gone wrong. By all accounts, I shouldn't have been able to conceive in the first place."

"Is that a no?"

"No – it's a...maybe. It's a _should _we," she said with an awkwardly uncomfortable shrug. "A _can _we..."

As they pulled up to a red light, he turned to study her as if he might read her mind. "Your doctor said there's no reason why we couldn't," he offered. He seemed to be testing her, trying to unearth the true reason being her discomfort.

She finally looked over at him then, her expression unreadable. "But it's a gamble – one I'm not sure I'm willing to make." She sighed, stared down at her hands where she was twisting her fingers in a loose thread on her sweater. "I love Isadora more than anything in the world, but we both know we never planned on having her, not now...we agreed that our lives were too dangerous, that we had too many enemies, that we would be putting a child at risk."

"Is it me?" he asked, temper flaring in spite of himself. "Is it what I am?"

"No, Erik! Of course not!" she insisted, "It's _me_... We both know what it's like to lose a parent, to feel alone. I couldn't live with myself if I let my daughter live with that same emptiness."

"Then why?" he demanded. "Why now? Why have her at all if you feel this way?"

He had her full attention then. "Don't _ever_ suggest that I don't love my daughter!" she lashed out. "That I haven't done everything in my power to give her the life she deserves!"

He sighed, almost sadly. "That isn't what I meant, Emily. I only wondered what had changed..."

Her tongue flicked out over her bottom lip as she tried to form some semblance of reason from her mess of thoughts. "I never told you," she whispered. "I didn't want to upset you... But I, umm, I-I died."

"Wh-what?" he stammered, brows leaping up his forehead. It was clear from his expression that if Ian Doyle weren't already six feet under, Erik would have made it his business to execute him personally. (In fact, in that moment he seemed tempted to do it anyway...)

"Only briefly," she amended. "But when I was in the ambulance, I coded; they had to resuscitate me. They said I was lucky, that I shouldn't have survived. And sometimes, when I look at her, when I hold her, all I can think about is that it could happen again. So _easily_."

His gaze followed hers into the backseat where Isadora had woken up and was cheerfully shoving her entire fist into her mouth, happily gumming her little fingers.

"Isn't she worth taking that chance?" he whispered.


	23. Chapter 23

"I'm having a bad day..."

She hated the way her voice trembled and broke, hated how absolutely _pitiful_ she sounded. She hadn't planned on breaking down like this, on letting her emotions come bubbling up to the surface, but when she'd gotten on the plane, she'd gotten a text from Erik – a picture of Isadora sleeping with her little bum up in the air – and she'd felt like her heart had been ripped from her chest, she missed her so badly in that moment.

Hotch nodded, almost knowingly. "What's happened?" he asked in a gentle murmur. When he'd made the deal with her, he hadn't expected her to fall apart so soon, but was glad she'd come to him nonetheless.

She let out a shaky breath, tongue flicking out over her bottom lip. "I, umm... I'm missing my baby girl," she said, which was as good a place to start as any. "I never realized how hard this was all going to be. I thought I'd come back to work and everything would feel the same, but somehow, having a baby changed everything."

"It isn't easy," he agreed.

"You didn't give birth," she snapped, "You don't know what it's like!" Then, realizing she'd just shouted at her boss, she blanched, clapped a hand over her mouth. "I'm so sorry," she apologized, voice muffled by her hand.

For his part, Hotch understood her outburst completely. "You're allowed to fall apart sometimes," he assured her, "We all need to lose it from time to time. It's part of being human, especially humans who do what we do."

Blinking too hard, too quickly in a battle against the tears threatening to spill over, she admitted, "Lately, it feels like all I do is try to pick up the pieces of the person I used to be..."

"What makes you say that?" he asked, almost clinically.

"All I wanted was to be with my husband – I was fine with blowing apart the life that I'd built for myself because it was never supposed to be permanent anyway. But I never intended to shatter everyone else's as well...

"And sure, I got my daughter out of it and I wouldn't trade her for the world, but _God_..." She paused, shook her head. "Now Reid is angry with me, Morgan doesn't trust me, Garcia is so afraid of losing me again that she can barely look at me without crying, and I feel like a hypocrite talking to someone like Regina Lampert – it wasn't supposed to be like this. Sometimes, I can't help but think that it would have been better if I'd never come back at all."

"Do you really believe that?" he asked. "That things would be better if you weren't here?"

She shrugged, the gesture saying everything and nothing.

He reached over to extend his hand across the table, waiting for her to accept the gesture or not. "Emily, you _survived_," he said as if that answered anything at all.

"But _why_?" she asked, nearly begging. "Why did I survive?"

He shook his head slowly. "You can't ask that – you'll drive yourself crazy trying to find the answer." He tried to offer a genuine smile. "The answer is in the beautiful smile of that baby girl waiting for you at home. She's going to make your hair turn grey, don't get me wrong, but she's going to make every single day worthwhile. That's all you need to know."

She nodded, mentally chewing over those words.

A beat of silence passed between them. "You're not going to stay," he said eventually. It wasn't a question.

She offered a smile, but it was a sad one, not quite reaching her eyes. It was answer enough.

* * *

When Emily walked into the bedroom, she found Erik splayed haphazardly across the bed, the light of the TV flickering across the planes of his face as he dozed. Next to him, Isadora lay, also dozing.

She padded silently across the room, leaning down to kiss first the baby, then her husband.

Her lips on his forehead startled Erik awake. "You're home," he mumbled sleepily. He pushed himself to sit up, yawning widely. "You look exhausted," he added.

She shrugged, not really feeling like getting into the finer points of her emotional turmoil at such a late hour, simply glad to be home...or, at least, as much at home as she could be living in Rossi's house. "Has she been sleeping long?" she asked, settling beside Isadora and smiling to herself as she watched the baby sleep.

"Long enough that she's probably due for a feeding," he answered. "I'm surprised she didn't wake up the moment you arrived – poor thing's been missing her Mama since you left."

Sadness washed over her face. "I missed her too," she confessed. "I don't know how JJ does it... I thought my heart was going to break clean in two." She rested a gentle hand on the baby's tummy, feeling it rise and fall with her heavy breathing. For a few moments, she just enjoyed the stillness of the moment, before carefully jostling her awake and watching her eyes light up as she recognized her, little arms reaching for her.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he said gently.

She nodded slowly, cradling the baby in her arms. "I know," she whispered. "I know..."

The turmoil of her decision was clear in her eyes and he knew her well enough to read it. "But if this is what you need to do, I support that," he assured her.

She attempted a smile. "I don't want to think about it right now," she said, shaking her head. "All I want is to hear about all the trouble my baby girl got into while I was gone..."

Erik chuckled quietly. "Trouble is the right word," he agreed. "I put her on the floor for tummy time and she rolled away and got stuck under the crib..."

She just shook her head and laughed. Looking down at the baby, she murmured, "You really are going to make my hair turn grey, aren't you?"


	24. Chapter 24

"Why don't you let me do that?" Erik suggested, watching from the doorway as Emily attempted to undress the baby with one arm in a sling. Isadora, however, was not in a cooperative mood, refusing to lay still long enough for Emily to unsnap the onesie she wore.

"I'm fine," she insisted, sounding annoyed, even though she was smiling down at the baby. "I can handle it." She looked from one hand to the other as if debating whether she could withstand the pain of removing the sling.

He approached beside her, rested a hand on her uninjured shoulder. "I wasn't suggesting you couldn't," he said, calm in the face of her irritation, "But you're dealing with a very squirmy baby and one good shoulder."

"Well, I can't just _stop_ being her mother," she snapped. "She needs a bath and someone has to do it..."

"Let _me_," he repeated. "I'm her father. I can manage for one night, I manage just find while you're gone..." It wasn't intended as an accusation, but it may have come off that way, judging by the reaction it produced from her.

"You said you were fine with me returning to work, but the truth is that you resent me for it, is that it?" she accused.

He sighed wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I didn't say that..."

"But it's true, isn't it?" she demanded. "You think that none of this would be happening if we'd just gone back to Genosha like you'd wanted – you think this is all my fault, right? Just admit it!"

He squeezed her shoulder tightly, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Emily, it's just a _bath_," he reminded her, "Just one night."

She sighed, bowed her head, all the fight seeming to bleed out of her in that moment. She kept one hand on Isadora's tummy to prevent her from rolling off the changing table (Isadora seemed to take that as a personal challenge, proceeding to wail at the top of her lungs in protest). "I _like _doing bath time," Emily said weakly.

"Em," he coaxed, "It's just for a few days while your arm heals – there will be plenty more bath times to come."

She cocked her head, her gaze turning sad. "And by the time it heals, I'll be away on a case. And then another. And another. Pretty soon, a year has gone by and she barely knows who I am."

Erik raised a brow. "I thought you wanted to return to work?"

"I do," she said, "I did. But..." She trailed off, looked down at the baby who was squirming against her hand, shaking her head softly. "I thought... I thought I didn't know who I was without my job, without being an agent, but I think I do now..."

"And who is that?"

She stared down into Isadora's eyes. "Her mother."

Erik rested a hand on top of hers where it rested on the baby's belly. "You'll always be her mother, Em – even while you're at work, you're still her mom," he assured her. "And she's certainly not going to forget you."

"And what happens when I don't come home?"

A beat. "Emily..."

"I mean, I could have died today – if that bullet was a few inches off..." She trailed off once again, eyes falling shut for a moment before opening again, shining with anxiety. "I don't want to leave her without a mother."

"You won't."

She let him take over undressing the baby then, finally admitting defeat. She stood back, watching him gently wrestle her flailing limbs out of the onesie. He lifted the baby into his arms, carrying her into the bathroom where the tub was already filled with a few inches of warm water.

She settled on the counter to watch him bathe her. "I can't guarantee that, though," she supplied in response to his insistence that she wasn't about to leave her daughter.

"So, what are you saying?"

* * *

The conversation didn't come up again until a few weeks later: on the night that Reid dropped her off after a night out – the first non-work night out she'd had since Isadora was born.

When she'd said she was going out that night with the girls, he'd anticipated a few hours at most before she missed Isadora and returned home for the night. He was _not _expecting her to stay out almost until dawn (three AM, according to the alarm clock beside the bed) and, apparently having drank everything in sight...

He could hear her drunken voice carrying up from the foyer, a series of thuds that was presumably her attempt to climb the stairs. He emerged from their bedroom to shush her before she woke the baby, but the moment she spotted him, she cried, "_Hey_, babe!" She stumbled into his chest, wrapped her arms around his neck, hanging off him like a monkey.

He raised a brow, tried to resist laughing as that would only encourage her overly affectionate (and overly_ loud_) behaviour."You're _wasted_..."

"_Shhhh_," she hissed as if it were some sort of secret.

"How much did you have to drink tonight?" he asked, doubting she'd remember.

Instead of answering, she smiled drunkenly up at him, leaned in for a kiss that he reluctantly gave. "I love you," she sing-songed.

He rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway. "I love you too. Now, let's get you into bed," he said, picking her up bridal style and carrying her into the bedroom before they woke Rossi and attracted his ire.

"_Bed_?" she repeated, waggling her brows. She let herself go limp in his arms, like a rag doll.

He laughed a little, shook his head. "Not like that..." He set her down on the bed, brushed the hair out of her face. "Go to sleep while you still can – Is will be hungry in a few hours and she won't be quiet about it."

She wriggled out of her jeans, tossed them aside, then snuggled up under the blankets. "I think I need to quit my job," she mumbled, eyes already closed.

"What?" he asked, stopping in the middle of pulling aside the covers.

But apparently that was the entirety of the conversation, as she'd already fallen asleep.


	25. Chapter 25

"Are you _sure_?" Emily asked yet again. "Like absolutely certain?" She internally winced at how stupid she sounded in that moment, but she just couldn't jump-start her brain into working again after it had stalled with the doctor's recent revelation.

The doctor, at least, seemed to find her inability to wrap her mind around the matter amusing. "I ran it twice to be sure," she insisted.

"But... _How_?" she asked, breathless and urgent. Granted, she _knew _how, but that didn't exactly make the matter any easier to digest.

Even though the question was mostly rhetorical, the doctor answered anyway, "Some women actually become more fertile after they have a child..."

Emily nodded distantly, obviously not completely paying attention.

She supposed that it made sense, given her moodiness and exhaustion lately – she'd written it off to stress, but, obviously that had been a mistake. She'd also been pretty sure she'd put on some weight, based on the fact that she couldn't quite button some of her tighter pre-pregnancy slacks, but she'd written it off as her imagination.

She and Erik had agreed that they wouldn't actively _prevent _another pregnancy, but they weren't actively _trying _either. She'd assumed (obviously incorrectly) that at her age, that there was no chance that she'd get pregnant again without medical intervention.

"It's okay to feel anxious or overwhelmed or even upset," the doctor assured her when she remained silent for an overly long time. "The transition from parenting one child to two is a big one, especially when there's such a short window between them."

She nodded again, almost numbly.

A beat. "Emily," the doctor said quietly, seriously, "There are options..."

She swallowed thickly, not quite sure how to respond, if she could respond at all without losing her composure completely. Before she could, though, her phone rang and she silently thanked a God she wasn't sure she believed in for the interruption. "It's work," she informed the doctor needlessly. It was _always _work. "I have to go."

* * *

"Hello, Little One," Charles greeted when Erik entered his office with Isadora earnestly attempting to escape his arms. "Old Friend," he added as if Erik were an afterthought, though his grin belied his forgetfulness.

Erik had taken Isadora to New York to visit Charles at the School. In the last few days, the baby had started showing signs of her abilities manifesting and they wanted to have Charles render an opinion on what they should expect from her as she got older.

"Hello, Charles," Erik replied, actively wrestling the baby as she tried to jab her finger in his eye. "I apologize for my daughter who, apparently, is determined not to be on her best behaviour."

Charles laughed. "I'd expect nothing less from the child of Emily Prentiss and Erik Lensherr."

Erik looked like he might have liked to argue that point, but honestly couldn't while maintaining a straight face. Especially given the fact that Isadora had spent the better part of the train ride trying to tear pages out of his book.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Charles asked, holding out his arms to take the baby.

Erik gladly relented, setting Isadora in his lap, letting her stare curiously up at the unfamiliar face and waiting to see if she'd make strange. When no tantrum seemed forthcoming, he explained, "Someone's an overachiever..."

Charlies tickled under the baby's chin. "Are you already more trouble than your parents can handle?" he cooed to her.

Isadora blew a raspberry in response, making him laugh once again. She then busied herself trying to pluck one of the shiny buttons off his sweater.

"So, what trouble has she been getting into?" he asked Erik.

"She's controlling Mudgie." Seeing Charles' confused expression, he explained, "Rossi's chocolate lab. When one of her toys rolls out of reach, she has him fetch it for her, rather than crawl to get it."

"Well, well, well, Little One – you _are _a wonder..."

* * *

Word in the School travelled fast – apparently, in spite of being populated by young mutants, the idea of a baby with abilities was somehow worthy of spectacle... A small crowd had gathered on the lawn to watch whatever it was that Charles had planned to test Isadora's blossoming abilities, though they were trying to pretend like they weren't watching because, if nothing else, Erik remained mysterious and intimidating (even if he was carrying an infant in a frilly pink dress).

Erik set Isadora down on the lawn outside Charles' manor and immediately had to stop her from sticking a fistful of grass in her mouth. He looked up as Charles wheeled over. "Where's the dog?" he asked.

Charles shook his head. "I want to see what she'll do when there's not an immediately obvious saviour..." he said.

Following his lead, Erik set Isadora's favourite toy just outside her reach and stood back, waiting to see what she'd do.

It didn't take long before Isadora pouted, whimpered, reached for the toy. She looked up at her father, bottom lip wobbling, eyes filling with tears and, much as he might want to immediately jump to her rescue, he resisted the impulse.

When it became clear that he wasn't about to get the toy for her, she let out a heart-rending wail. Birds in the nearby trees immediately took to the sky, swooping through the air as if in expression of her upset.

From a burrow hidden among the roots of one of the trees, a family of rabbits emerged and approached. In spite of their normal shyness, they came right up to Isadora, nuzzling her little hands as if soothing her. One of the rabbits snuffled at the toy then, turned, kicking it with its powerful back legs, sending it skidding to a stop right in front of the baby.

With a squeal of delight, she took the toy in her hands. Nearby, some of the students applauded her victory.

It was clear that Charles was intrigued and would have liked to investigate further, but before he could suggest further testing, Hank leaned out one of the windows and shouted, "Erik, there's something I really think you should see..."


	26. Chapter 26

"I think someone owes Charles a thank you," Erik remarked, perhaps a little dryly, but only for her ears as they danced closely in the glow of the fairy lights strung about Rossi's garden.

She pulled back slightly to fix him with a raised brow, looking rather unamused. "What did you do?" she asked pointedly. She knew her husband well enough to know that he was rather prone to acting first and thinking later.

"It's what I _didn't_ do," he countered. At her continued pointed stare, he explained, "I saw the news footage of the bank blowing up..."

"Oh..." she said, suddenly looking rather chagrined.

It was his turn to stare pointedly, awaiting an explanation.

"I only got blown up a little," she joked lamely. He didn't appear amused. Serious this time, she offered, "I was just doing my job, we didn't know they'd wired the bank with explosives, and you've almost exploded plenty of times." She left out the part about her being pregnant, knowing it would do absolutely no good to show her hand so soon.

"That was _before _I was a parent," he replied.

She couldn't exactly argue with that because he had, in fact, done a very good job of avoiding trouble since Isadora's birth, so she did the next best thing. "Do you want me to quit my job?" she asked, devoid of emotion so as not to sway his answer either way.

"Do _you_ want to quit your job?" he fired right back, just as emotionless.

She quirked a brow. "You didn't answer my question," she said. He didn't respond, almost as if he knew there was something she was holding back. At length, she heaved a sigh, eyes falling shut briefly before admitting defeat. "Clyde Easter called me. He's offered me a job..."

He clearly hadn't been expecting that, based on the way his brows jumped up his forehead.

"I think... I think I need to take it," she continued when he remained silently stunned. Any further discussion was interrupted by the familiar sound of Isadora's holler of "Mamamamama!" Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled softly. "Sounds like someone's hungry."

(Practically from the moment they'd arrived at Rossi's, Garcia had claimed possession of Isadora and the baby was all too happy to be doted upon. But, now that she was hungry, the only person in the world that mattered was Emily.)

Breaking away from her dance with Will, JJ followed Emily into Rossi's living room, settled next to her as she wriggled one side of her dress down to feed the baby. "The next celebration will be your baby girl's birthday..." she murmured.

Emily nodded. "I don't know how an entire year has gone by... How has my baby grown so much so fast?" Every moment of every day, she couldn't believe how quickly her little girl was growing and learning and changing.

She nodded knowingly. "All I can tell you is that it only starts going faster." She glanced, almost wistfully, through the glass doors leading out to the garden where Henry was watching in awe as Reid wowed him with magic tricks.

Emily sighed sadly. "That's what I was afraid of. Every time I feed her now, I worry that it will be the last time. It breaks my heart that one day she won't need me like this."

"She'll always need you," she promised.

For a few moments, Emily stroked Isadora's head in silence.

"So, do you want to tell me what's going in?" JJ asked softly. She reached up to brush away an errant tear that had escaped to roll down Emily's cheek.

She shook her head. "No, not tonight," she insisted. "Not on your wedding night."

JJ just fixed her with an expression like a mom who'd caught her child with their hand in the cookie jar.

"I'm pregnant," she said the first thing to come to her mind, apparently unable to keep it a secret any longer.

"Congratulations," JJ said, then added teasingly, "And good luck – two under two will probably be a handful."

She rolled her eyes, but had to concede that she was very much correct in that assumption. Instead of responding directly, though, she whispered, "When I regained consciousness after the first blast, I was _so scared_, but I didn't even hesitate to run into the train station to save Will." She paused, chewed her lip in thought. "I didn't hesitate to put his life ahead of my unborn child's. I don't regret it, but..."

"It's who you are," JJ whispered. "You're an agent, but that doesn't make you any less of a mother."

She didn't seem convinced.

"I know what you're feeling right now," she whispered. "I, umm, I haven't even told Will this, but I... I lost a baby – while I was reassigned. I didn't know I was pregnant at the time, but I don't know that it would have changed anything."

"Oh, Jayje..." Emil rasped, "I'm so sorry. And I'm sorry for rubbing it in that..."

She shook her head. "That's not what you were doing. And that wasn't my point. I'm trying to say that there are some things you can't control and you can't carry those things with you."

"I don't know what I'm going to do without you," Emily said softly.

JJ raised a brow in question.

She winced. "We're going back to Genosha," she murmured apologetically.

"What? Why? When?" she stammered.

Eyes cast downwards, she answered, "Clyde offered me a position coordinating mutant operations for Interpol. We're be leaving as soon as Isadora's passport comes through." A beat. "I'm sorry, Jayje, I didn't want to tell you tonight..."

She attempted a smile. "Can we come visit?" she asked.

Emily gave a wet little laugh. "Any time you want," she vowed. "Besides, I'll be back to have the baby – we'll still see each other."

"Good," she said firmly. "I'd hate to have to kick your ass on my wedding day."

She laughed, kissed her cheek. "Consider it your wedding present."


	27. Chapter 27

Erik watched as Emily crouched down next to Isadora's high chair, eyes shining with joy. In the past year, he'd seen that look in her eyes more than he could ever remember having seen it in all the time he'd known her. And he knew it was all because of that little girl...the reason they were gathered to celebrate.

Isadora, however, seemed unsure – of the flames atop her cake, of the gathering of people, of the boisterous singing, and the flashing camera. She looked to her mother, uncertainty flickering in her eyes, looking for reassurance.

As usual, Emily understood the baby's needs without her needing the words to voice them. Gently, she stroked Isadora's soft strawberry blonde locks, lips moving as she soothed the child with familiar French whispers.

She gently tapped the baby's nose, making her giggle and suddenly everything seemed right with her world, fears forgotten with her mother's reassurances.

The final notes of everyone signing _Happy Birthday_ faded out and Emily cooed, "Blow out the candles, Is!"

Isadora looked up at her, cautious.

"It's okay, baby," she murmured. Then, blew out the candles for her.

Everyone applauded and, earlier fears long since departed, Isadora was instantly digging into the cake with her fists. As she gleefully smeared cake about her face, Emily joined Erik, wrapped her arms around his waist.

"What are you smiling about?" she asked softly.

For a few moments, he remained silent, watching their daughter. At her feet, Mudgie wagged his tail furiously, eager for a taste of the cake being thrown about. "Just...trying to imagine how life could get any better than it is in this moment."

For so long, he'd never bothered to imagine any kind of domestic bliss, any kind of normalcy in his life. It didn't seem likely, didn't even seem _possible_...that someone could see past all his anger and scars to the person beneath and not only accept that man, but _love _him. And here he was, celebrating his daughter's first birthday with his loving wife next to him and a circle of (perhaps begrudging) friends.

She nuzzled into his chest, relishing in the feeling of being in his arms, the feeling of home. The feeling of everything being right in the world, even if it was just for a brief moment. "What if I were to tell you that I had a gift for you?" she asked.

He raised a brow. "But it's not my birthday..." He paused, thought. "If anything, I should be getting _you_ a gift for having given birth to her."

She laughed a little because, hey, it was true. "Open it anyway," she insisted, pulling an envelope out of her back pocket. She'd been waiting for the right moment to give it to him and she hadn't planned on that moment being in the middle of the party, surrounded by nosy teammates, but the timing just felt right.

He raised a brow, but accepted the envelope anyway, even if he was looking at it as if expecting it to spontaneously combust at any moment. From inside, he pulled a small black and white photograph. "Is this...?" he started to ask after staring numbly at it for what felt like ages.

She grinned, nodded, not letting him finish his thought.

"You're..."

She nodded again. Then, before she could say anything, he engulfed her in a bone-crushing embrace. She laughed, partly from nervous energy, but mostly out of joy.


End file.
